Blessings on the Broken Road
by sburbiangodtier
Summary: England couldn’t help that he always got depressed on America’s birthday. But who knew that his worst habit and their worst cohort could be the factor that finally brought them back together? Rated M for language, a bit of violence, and plenty of yaoi.
1. When Your Heart Is Breaking In Two

Blessings on the Broken Road

Pairing: America and England

Rating M

Summary: England couldn't help that he always got depressed on America's birthday. But who knew that his worst habit and their worst cohort could be the factor that finally brought them back together? Rated M for language, a bit of violence, and plenty of yaoi.

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**Greetings, once again, my fellow Hetalia fans! I bring to you another epic masterpiece by me and my best friend, Letovix, who officially went from being "Leto-chan" to being "Leto-senpai" to me as of this week. Long story. But anyways, we have created, for your dining pleasure, a Hetalia fanfiction! Both of us just love the America/England (Alfred F. Jones/Arthur Kirkland) pairing, and have been working on this rp-story since her birthday in early June. We just recently finished it. **

**I star as the role of England, plus some other countries. (She claims my France is like no other. XD) And Leto, of course, stars as the amazing country of awesome: America, plus some other countries.**

**Letovix gave me the complete authority over the title of this story, and as I was reading it, I realized that there was a song that really fit it well. And as you can guess, that song is "Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts. If any of you know me and my stories, you know my tendency to link stories to songs all the time anyways, so I don't think you didn't expect this. XD**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to either me or Leto. If it did, we'd be rich and famous. Sad truth, we are not. So therefore, we don't own it. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya forever and ever. And we love him for it. **

**Enjoy our newest story! Leto and I soak up reviews like sponges. We crave them like pasta. And we love them like we love Russia, the big ol' sweetheart. X3**

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"Happy Birthday, America!" The sound of cheerful clapping and energetic congratulations echoed across the overly-sized building, America's birthday location for that year. "Haha, thank you, everyone! I know you're all having a good time, so...it's about time to cut the cake! Now, who wants some!" It was more of a statement than a question, really. After all, the only one who didn't like the cake was Japan, and America really didn't know why... After all, the brighter and more colorful it was, the better, right? But he was a nice guy, after all, so he always had a few things set out for Japan to munch on as well. His party was perfect. Or...that's what he wished, but...there was something missing. A very important something, actually. And America wished that England would just swallow his pride for once, and come to his party. The last time he had come was several years ago, and America, quite frankly, missed his former big brother.

Unbeknownst to the party boy, England stood just outside of the door to the building. In his hands was a brightly wrapped box; America's present. He fiddled with the big red bow, biting his lip and trying to will his heart into beating steadier again. He was actually trying to go in, but every time he went to put his hand on the doorknob, he chickened out. What the hell was wrong with him? England prided himself on his sense of confidence, and his keen knowledge in always knowing the right thing to say. But now? When he was attempting to go to his rebellious former younger brother's birthday party? It was AMERICA, for crying out loud! And yet...he was still too shy. Inside, he could hear Italy begging Germany for a round of "Pin The Meatball on the Pasta", and France flirting with anyone he could lay his eyes on.

The next thing England knew, he was holding his nose in pain, cursing at the top of his voice. "Oh my gosh, England, are you okay, aru!?" inquired a certain, brown-haired China, who had opened the door to see who it was that kept muttering something about "that damned kid" and "it should've been different". He bent down to help him up, but America practically pushed him out of the doorway. His heart skipped. Was it really..? "Aw, damn it, and after I went through all the trouble to come! I just know this is America's fault somehow, the bloody git..." It was! "England!?" America practically shouted in non-belief. "It's really you, you came! Couldn't resist the best birthday party ever, could you?" he chided, more in a joking tone than anything.

England felt his heart skip a beat at the higher-pitched voice above him, and he looked up into America's lively eyes. But he recovered himself just in time, and picked himself up off the ground, completely ignoring America's outstretched hand. He brushed himself off and cleared his throat brusquely, avoiding the younger country's happy gaze. "Yes...well...I just stopped by...to give you this." And he shoved the gift into America's surprised hands. England shoved his hands back into his own pockets. "Happy birthday." was all he said.

America looked at the gift with suspicion, and carefully tugged at the ribbon, taking his own sweet time with it. "Oh, just open the damn thing, you idiot!" England fussed, his face red. America wasn't certain if he was red with embarrassment or frustration, but he didn't really want anything like England's previous visit anyway... He pulled off the ribbon, and flinched as the top popped open. Huh. Nothing odd about it this time... He proceeded to look in the box, and there was an even smaller box inside, wrapped in tissue paper. It looked like a jewelry box, and when America opened it, he found a pendant on a gold chain. The pendant looked like the American flag. America stared at it in awe. Did this mean that England had finally forgiven him and had come to terms with what happened? Probably not, but none the less, America smiled. "England, this is awesome, thanks so, mu-..." But when he looked up, England had already gone. He smiled back down at the pendant and put it around his neck, picking up the bag and the jewelry box, and going back inside.

England strode away from the building, hands still shoved deep into his pockets and clenched into fists. "Damn it! This is all your fault, America! All your fault!" he muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. He walked onward, reliving the memories of so long ago. Back before America had decided that he wanted to live on his own and rebel against his big brother. Oh, the sweet days of sitting beneath a tree, tiny America on his lap, teaching him the calls of the birds and the song of the crickets. The good old days when America had looked adoringly into his eyes and declared that they'd "always be together forever 'n' ever". England sighed sadly. It looked like America was doing just fine on his own now. He looked up to see that he was standing in front of the local bar, and deciding that he needed something to lift his spirits, went inside and sat down on a tall stool.

America sighed. The party was over, and everyone was slowly leaving, since the celebratory fireworks had ended. The sandy-blonde male fingered his necklace for the millionth time, thanking everyone for coming, and telling them that he hoped to see them all next year. Everyone said their goodbyes, and America, thankful that everyone was nice enough to help him clean up, (Except for France...that bastard.) ran off to go back home. He was exhausted from the party.

England felt so dizzy...he shouldn't have had that last Long Island Iced Tea, but who could resist this high when he felt so low before? His head buzzed with a tingly feeling, and he stood up, slapping some of his own currency onto the table surface without even counting it. "Keep the change." he slurred before stumbling out the door and running smack into the very person he wanted to avoid. "What the hell?!" he whined, as they fell in a heap onto the ground. "What're you doin' here, 'Merica?"

America blinked, England not making any indication of moving anytime soon...which was bad, considering that he was laying smack on top of him. America decided to take the initiative, and tried pushing the other country off himself, with little success. "Ah...E-England!? What..? I was...just going home, but... You were out drinking? Again..?" America sighed. It's not like England was a drunkard, most definitely not, but once he started drinking, there was no stopping the man. "England, you were out drinking...because...it was my birthday... Weren't you?" America felt a sense of guilt pitting in his stomach. It happened every year. England never came to his party, but instead, went out drinking to forget his sorrow. America knew what was coming next, and it wouldn't be the first time it's happened... _'Well, looks like England is crashing at my place tonight...again.'_

"Oh, you!" England clapped America on the back and wiped his mouth sloppily. "Quit 'ccusin' me of such shit! You know that I don't care 'bout that!" His mind was a blur. Was America on his left or right? And was it even him? Gods, he was a mess. But right now, he didn't care. He attempted to look at America and grinned. "You know, you're awful perty." And he leaned against America's shoulder, his head feeling too heavy to hold up any longer.

The blue-eyed male looked around, a nervous look on his face. No one was there to see them, so that was good... Russia was usually hanging around drinking his vodka about this time, but it seemed that either he had decided to go to a different bar this time or he had gone back to his house, via boat. "Sheesh, England... You really got yourself wasted this time, didn't you? Well, come on. Looks like we're having a sleepover." America finally managed to crawl out from under the other male, and lifted the giggling man onto his shoulders. "Come on, England. Let's go before anyone sees you like this..." And with that, he carried England back to his place, careful to avoid as much attention as possible.

England remained quiet for the duration of the ride to America's house, something he could easily tell even in his drunken state that the younger country was glad for. But his mind was a whirl, and he couldn't think straight. As America entered his house and laid the wasted man out on the couch in the den, England looked up at him. "Why'd you leave...?" he heard himself asking, and immediately cursed his drunken tongue.

America slumped down on the couch next to England, careful not to sit on him, and exhaled. He glanced over at the other country once the question had been asked, and tilted his head just slightly, as he often did when he was asked a question he didn't quite understand. "Hmm? Oh! The party? Well, the party was over. It's all done, so you can stop drinking yourself silly until next year. Although, honestly, England...I wish you just wouldn't. I mean, it can't be good for you..."

"No...not party..." England murmured. "Me...why'd you leave...me?" His half-lidded eyes tried to focus on America, to get a clearer view of the blonde's confused expression. He struggled to find his way through the haze, to make sense of his surroundings...his words. Why was he bringing this up with the rebel traitor, anyway? Why was he even here? _'Damn...I must be totally wasted...'_ He thought, his eyes rolling back into his head a little.

America stopped breathing. He stared at England with an absolutely shocked look on his face, and even as he tried to speak, his words would just dissolve on his lips. He could feel his heart beating strongly in his chest, and he just knew that he had turned pale. He didn't like talking about this. The look on England's face as he was about to pull the trigger...end America's life.........kill his little brother... And that moment when he knew he couldn't do it, just collapsing into a sobbing heap on the muddied battleground, his weapon falling from his hands in the rain... The look of pure heartbreak on what little of his face could be seen, the rest covered by his hands... America didn't like to think about it. "I...I told you already. You and the queen...all you wanted was power. You were getting greedy, England, and I...I don't want to talk about this anymore, and I know that you don't really either. Now come on, you should get to bed. I'll get you some water to help the hangover you're going to have in the morning." America tried to stand up to get the beverage, but he was instantly stopped by a hand gripping his sleeve. "E-England...come on, let go."

"No...please..." England pleaded, a look of longing in his eyes. He pulled the shocked boy back down onto the couch and gathered him into his arms, not wanting to let go. "I miss you so much, America..." he breathed into the reddening ear. "Please...." _'Stop! Damn it! What the hell are you doing, England! Let him go! Ah, damn it all!'_ But alas, his arms just wouldn't cooperate with his mind's commands.

"A-ah...England?" America tried to get out of the iron grip that England held him in, but every time he thought he could slip away, England just clung tighter, and he ended up not even getting close. America knew how England got when he was drunk, and he didn't want anything to happen that either one of them would regret later. He looked at England, who was still laying down, although he was now on his stomach his head practically laying in America's lap... He settled back, lifted his hand, and rested it on England's head, ruffling his hair gently. "Ah, damn it, England, I hate it when you get like this... You start saying weird things..."

England shook his head, tightening his grip on America even more. "Why don't you come back to me? I would welcome you with open arms..." he said. "You seriously cannot be happy living on your own like this. If you came back, you'd never have to worry about anything monetary ever again. I'd handle it all for you, just as I did before. You'd never want for food or drink. And you'd be happier..."

America looked down at his feet. He knew that he couldn't. ENGLAND knew...that he couldn't. He was growing uncomfortable. It had already been two-hundred years, and he was still despairing over it. America knew that England had changed. He was better now, not so greedy...but they were still reliant on monarchy, and America had grown too used to his freedom to just go back to being controlled again, just like that. "E...England. I...I can't. You know that I care about you, but...I can't go back. I'm doing well on my own, and it's not like we never see each other, right? I miss you sometimes too, England, but I just...I can't go back. And you know that."

"Damn it, America!" England suddenly shouted, and he saw the boy flinch at the raised tone of voice. "Don't you understand?! I need you! I want you to come back! I miss those old days.... And besides, after you won the fucking war, do you know how my country suffered? Our whole economy nearly collapsed thanks to your fucking rebellion. My people nearly starved for months while I tried to work things out. I thought was the end of me...."

The younger country leaned his head back against the sofa. It always turned out like this... England would yell at him, he would eventually lose his temper and yell back, and America would end it by sending England to the guest bedroom, seething. England would be gone by morning, and the next time they met, they would pretend it didn't happen, writing it off as being drunk, even tough America was never drunk when they fought. "England, I've already apologized for that... I know I've caused you a lot of trouble, and I really appreciate everything you did for me when I was still a colony... But you have to understand MY situation too..." He continued to "pet" England, running his fingers through the dark-blonde hair on his head.

England tried to ignore the fingers in his hair. They were both irritating him...and doing something else that he could not recognize. Instead he reached up and grabbed America's wrist, pushing it back against the man on top of him. "No, I'm afraid I don't have to." he sneered, glaring at the younger country. "You betrayed me, America. You rebelled against me. What other choice did I have but to fight back?"

A simple frown, and America knew...it had started. "Don't talk about things you know nothing about. I was always your little brother, but once I began to grow up, my feelings were shoved aside for things that would make you happy. The suit you gave me made YOU happy, even though I said I was happy with my own style. You gave me that musket, hoping to turn me into a soldier for YOU, and it was the very same musket I ended up using to rebel. You don't seem to realize exactly how close you were to losing me to France the day I became your territory. If you hadn't started crying, we'd have the same relationship that you have with France, so at least be grateful that we don't!" His tone had become somewhat harsh, and his voice had raised. It was only a matter of time. Better to just get it over with...

"Well, consider this!" England shouted back, wincing at the memories America had chosen to dig up. "You weren't doing your part to help in helping with our family's finances! You allowed us all to starve! You threw our entire household into chaos and ruin, and you murdered many of our comrades! Our brethren! I've suffered for so long because of you!" He reached up, grabbing a hold of America's collar and pulling him close. "You fucking bastard, you nearly killed me in your delirious, fucked-up ideas of freedom and liberty!"

The sandy-blonde took England's wrist in his hand, pulling it off of his trademark aviator jacket. "England, get your hands off me." he threatened. "You're being unreasonable, and it happened so damn long ago, that it should just be a distant memory for you! Get over it already! Man, England, I knew you were a sore loser, but 200 years and you STILL won't let me be? That's pretty lame, _big brother_."

England growled, lurching forward with America still on top of him, throwing the other blonde backward and crawling overtop of him. "You know what? _You're_ pretty lame..._little brother_. You really, honestly think that insulting me is going to change the way I feel? You hurt me, America, more than you know. And now...it's my turn." He glared down at the boy, whose eyes were slightly widened with shock.

America's expression changed several times in the course of two seconds. From anger, to surprise, to something unknown, and back to anger again. "You think I WANTED to watch you suffer!?" he screamed, the intensity in his words surprising even himself. "England, you're not the only one who got hurt at that time, you fucking BASTARD!" America felt tears start to sting his glass-covered eyes. His face was red with anger, and he grabbed England by the collar, much like England had done to him just moments ago. "You were my FAMILY! I loved you! Watching you in so much pain, knowing I caused it all...you think that had no effect on me!? You think I was HAPPY when I saw you crying on your knees, cursing me like that!? Is that what you really think!?" He was panting. England had gone too far with his last few words, and America knew that he couldn't hold it in any more. Still clinging to the shorter male's collar, he reared his hand back...and slapped England right across the face. "Are you sober NOW?" the younger country asked bitterly.

Not only did the sting from America's hand wake England up, but so also did his words. England blinked dazedly. "You...you loved me, America?" he asked quietly, his anger cooling just a bit. "You...you honestly cared about what happened to me...to us?"

"Of course I did, you idiot!" At last, America released his hold on his former-sibling, and managed to push him off, both men rising to a sitting position. America kept his gaze fixated on the carpet in front of him, although England's eyes never once left America. "You were my brother. How could I not care..? How could I not love you? I know you cared as well, you just couldn't show it like you did when I was smaller... I know that. I really do. So why can't you just make it easier on BOTH of us, and try to help actually MEND this relationship instead of rubbing it in my face for once?"

"A-America..." England whispered, wincing and looking away from the other boy. "I...I don't know...what to say." He still stayed in his place, beside America, although he couldn't keep from squirming a bit. "I...I've always wanted to fix things...but I don't know how to."

America allowed himself a quick glance at England. "Well..." he started. "First, you can stop calling me 'idiot' all the time. You could also stand to keep to yourself about my dieting habits... Quit telling me I'm going to get fat, damn it, it's a real turn off! Also, I don't drink tea anymore, so stop offering it to me every time I go over to your house! And speaking of when I go over..." America had taken to counting off his complaints on his fingers. He kind of hoped that England wasn't drunk anymore, because if he was, then he was about to go berserk at all of America's little 'comments'. "...your food sucks! I mean, I don't like scones to begin with!"

England glowered. "Hey, don't insult my food preferences! I just offered you an apology, and this is the forgiveness I get?! Thanks a lot!" He glared over at America. "I can do all those things, and more! I can make you happy, America. And..." He stopped, his eyes wide. "What do you mean...'a real turn-off'...?"

Clueless, ocean-blue eyes turned to lock gazes with the emerald-green ones that belonged to England. "Well, it's a turn-off. I mean, like when I insult your cooking. I mean, I know you don't like it when I do that, England, but seriously...stop trying to feed me."

"Fine." England said simply. "Consider it done." He reached over and touched America's cheek. "I...I'm sorry...America." Damn, he was so bad at this apologizing thing!

America stared at him for a moment, leaning into his gentle touch. "...boy, you must be more drunk than I thought." he laughed. "You're apologizing so suddenly? It's not April Fool's Day, you know!" He should've stopped to think about his position, but, alas, this was America. And he completely missed the glare that England sent his way.

"I wasn't joking." England retorted. "I really am serious. I miss you America. A lot. I wish that things could be back to normal, but since it can't...I guess that this is as good as it gets." He carefully stroked the younger man's cheek, not realizing the action. "It's taken so long for me to stop being so stubborn. I have a lot of pride, you know." he admitted. _'I've never admitted that even to myself! Why is he doing this to me all of a sudden? What kind of spell does he have me under? Was he looking in my spellbook again? Damn. I thought I locked that up!'_

"Yeah, that you do, England." the other male replied, being unable to read the atmosphere. He really did need to find that book... After all, how could he read The Atmosphere if all the bookstores were always out?! "I don't think that's going to change anytime soon, either... But that's okay. Because if you weren't so stubborn, then you wouldn't be 'you'."

England smirked. "And what would you know about that, little boy?" he remarked casually, rolling his eyes. "On another note, this conversation has taken somewhat of a mushy turn, so therefore, I'll get off of it now, before I do something you won't like." He smirked again as he leaned back and crossed his legs. This was the first time in so long that he and America were sitting down and having a real conversation with each other, and he didn't want to ruin it now. Maybe...just maybe...with a bit of persuasion, he could bring America back to him.

America merely laughed. "'Something I wouldn't like'? You do that a lot anyway, don't you?" He sighed, a much more content sigh than the last few, and leaned back, putting his arms over the back of the couch. "You know, I really should go get you that water... You're going to have a major headache in the morning if I don't." And with that, America got up and moved into the kitchen to get England a glass of water.

England sat there until America returned, a glass of ice water in his hand. The dirty-blonde accepted the chilling drink and began to sip slowly, feeling the coolness of it wash down his throat, relieving him of the burn of the alcohol. "Ahhh..." he mumbled. "That feels good."

"What am I going to do with you, England..?" America murmured as he watch the other male chug down the water. "Well, I suppose you should get to bed soon, huh? I mean, it's getting late, and you're pretty fucked up... Feel free to watch TV, or help yourself to whatever's in the fridge until you're ready to get to sleep. You remember where the guest bedroom is, right? I'm headed to bed. Night, England." He turned to leave, but before he did, he made sure to remind England not to leave the TV on this time. After a certain time, when he knew England was asleep, he always heard it and thought it was a ghost. That always freaked him out.

Meanwhile, England nodded and sat there in the now-darkened den, sipping his water carefully. His mind still felt a bit fuzzy around the edges, but the real stupor was beginning to fade. He sighed and finished off the drink, stumbling towards the room that he knew to be the guest bedroom. Without even taking off his shoes, England fell onto the bed, groaning. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

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**Wow. So much angst in the first chapter! I didn't intend to have the fight in there until the next chapter, but I couldn't find a convenient place to break it off to begin the next chapter. So I guess this will do. **

**Did you enjoy this first chapter? If so, then please review! Pretty please, with Italy on top? :'D**


	2. Bedtime Story

**Chapter 2 already! We hope you're enjoying it so far. :3**

**The story of Thumbelina that I will tell is copyrighted to Don Bluth, as it comes straight from the 1994 movie of the same name. **

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It had been a few hours already. America was wide awake. Every time he heard a noise, he jumped, and he just couldn't convince himself that it was the TV!_ 'Aw, man, I told England to turn off the TV... But...since I reminded him...maybe he really did..? And...what I'm hearing is...a...g-g-g-ghost..? No! No way, he was...he was drunk! He probably didn't really pay attention when I told him to turn it off, and just...forgot! Or...fell asleep on the couch! He does fall asleep fast, especially when he's drunk... I'd...b-better go check, though...just to make sure...'_ America, blanket wrapped around him like some kind of shield, got up and cautiously opened his bedroom door. He saw a faint glow, and immediately relaxed. "See..? It was...just the TV." He went over and turned it off...the whole room going dark. America froze. "It...was just the TV... There weren't any real ghosts...just the TV...so..." A frog chirped outside. America jumped and ran off to the guest bedroom, letting himself in. _'And I didn't even watch any scary movies this time...damn it!'_ Finding his way in the dark, he made his way over to the bed and found England's shoulder. "Umm...E-England? England..? Can I...sleep with you tonight? I keep hearing noises, and..."

England opened his eyes groggily and gazed at America through the darkness. "You're still...afraid of ghosts, America?" he mumbled. He opened the covers, still holding the younger boy's gaze. "Come on. Get in here."

America pouted, and climbed into bed, mumbling something about "not my fault they're so scary..." and "thanks". He settled in, curling up as close to England as possible before saying his goodnight, and hoping that England would manage to stay up longer than him this time... Yeah right...

England sighed, feeling the warm body pressed against his back. America was still quivering in fright a bit, and he sighed again. Without thinking, he rolled over and wrapped his arms around the spooked man, rubbing his back to help him get to sleep. His chin rested on America's blonde head as the younger country curled up next to him.

America's expression fell just slightly when England wrapped his arm around him. He was always having to get help when he was scared... He was a hero! He couldn't get this scared over every little thing that MIGHT be a ghost! But...England was never afraid... America always felt so helpless when he had to sleep with England like this... England was always so warm though, and the way he was holding him like that...made him feel safe... He quickly found himself getting drowsy, and he was just about to doze off when he heard England snoring. "H-wha? E-England, no! You can't fall asleep before me, not again! Why do you always do that? Come on! Englaaand!!!"

The blonde haired man groaned and opened one eye again. "I thought you wanted to sleep?" he muttered, gazing into America's sapphire eyes. "If you don't want me to fall asleep first, what DO you want me to do?"

America's lip quivered ever so slightly. "T...tell me a story?" he said lamely, a sheepish grin on his face. Wow. How long had it been since England had told him a bedtime story? A few hundred years at least, right? "Please..?"

"What kind of story?" England answered automatically, shocking even himself. Normally, he'd have a gruff, rude answer to give to the young boy, but tonight...he felt different. Like, he was where he belonged for now.

America looked into the other country's eyes. He found it a bit odd that England didn't say anything about it... Not even a 'aren't you too old for that?' Maybe he was just tired, or possibly still drunk, but America could sense a sincerity in his voice that was all too familiar, but not often heard. "Umm...tell me a fairy tale?" He almost smacked himself. He had only said that for lack of better thing to say, but he wasn't five! Albeit bed time stories weren't exactly for people his age, either...

England shook his head. "You are still such a child..." he whispered, a memory flashing to his mind from so long ago. _England sat down on his black couch, little America on his lap, and a large book of Grimm's fairy tales in his tiny hands. "Alright, America, which story shall we read tonight?" England smiled as the tiny country beamed up at him, flipping to the back of the book. "Let's read the story of Thumbelina tonight, England-san!"_ Tears welled up in England's eyes unexpectedly and he blinked them away. "I'll tell you one of your old favorites." he said.

America nodded, smiling as England scruffed his hair, much like he did when America was still little. England's hands were so big back then...so warm... America remembered always falling asleep to the sound of England's voice, and he felt a total feeling of calm wash over him. "Thank you, England..." he heard himself whisper, although he didn't remember telling his mouth to say it.

"This is the story of a tiny girl...no bigger than your thumb." England started, caressing one of America's thumbs to demonstrate. "She was born from a flower, given to an old widow by a magic fairy. The woman had cared for and nursed the flower until it bloomed, revealing the tiny girl inside. The woman called her "Thumbelina" because when the girl crawled onto her hand and stood, she was no bigger than the woman's thumb. And so they lived on the woman's farm, happily doing the chores and singing." England paused, for drama and not because he'd forgotten. Anything but that! The story was as fresh as the memory in his mind. "But not all was happy for Thumbelina. She was sad, because she wanted very much to fall in love, but felt that since she was so small, there could possibly be no one for her."

America smiled, resisting the urge to chuckle. The way England was caressing his thumb like that tickled. He realized that he missed that feeling... The feeling of England's touch...and he couldn't help but feel a bit sad at that. He snuggled deeper into the crook of the other male's neck, and whispered: "Did she cry?" like he always did when he was little. It was almost like they had gone back in time.

"Many times she would. But more often than not, she would sing to herself of her desires, for Thumbelina had the most beautiful singing voice." England whispered back , moving one hand to stroke America's silky hair. "But one night, she was sitting on her windowsill by her little bed, made from a walnut, and was singing to herself. Her voice carried out over the valley in which she lived, and unbeknownst to her, the fairy prince, Cornelius, was out on his pet bumblebee, riding around. The fairy prince heard her voice and went to investigate."

"He rode on a bumblebee? That's so cool!" Another line from old times. It was as if they were reading from a script, although he knew they weren't. "Have you ever seen the fairy prince, England?" He turned into the fingers in his hair, and lifted his head just a bit, the fingers now brushing at his hair line.

"As a matter of fact, I did once." England responded, gazing down at the younger boy. For a fleeting moment, all he saw was America's cherubic younger face with that same adoration he once had. He stroked America's fair cheek and whispered, "He looked just like you. Same shade of hair, same eyes, same angelic face."

"Did he really..?" the young country breathed. "Wow..." He breathed through his nose, and picked up England's scent, although it was slightly masked by alcohol, and he was taken back in time again, making the experience seem kind of surreal.

England nodded. "Yeah. So anyways, Cornelius flew up to the window and peered inside, only to see the beautiful Thumbelina dancing and singing to herself. He decided to meet her. After surprising her and nearly scaring her off, they finally talked to each other, and found that they had a few things in common, like their height. He invited her to go on a ride with him on his bumblebee, Buzbee. And off they flew into the late summer evening. He held her securely by the waist, her hair flying behind them both, as he sung to her sweet words of young lovers. And when they got back to the house, they kissed."

A little pink tongue flew out of America's mouth, and his face twisted into that of child-like disgust. "A kiss? Eww! That's gross, England!"

England chuckled, adjusting himself to wrap his arm around America's shoulder. The other hand continued to hold the boy's hand absently. "Of course they did! They knew from the moment they saw each other that they loved each other, and so it felt right to them." Then he looked down into gleaming sapphire eyes. "I thought you've kissed a lot of people in your time, America-kun."

The younger male shook his head. "Mmm-mm! Only you, England. And you're my onii-chan, so that doesn't count!" He looked back up into the other's eyes, and he thought he saw tears forming. Should he not have said anything about being his brother..? After all, he wasn't really his brother anymore, and he knew that England was sensitive when it came to that subject...

The comment stung a bit, and England winced. _'Onii-chan...'_ He swallowed hard and pretended to brush off the comment by continuing. "But...but all was not to be happily ever after for Cornelius and Thumbelina. That night, after the prince left, a toad kidnapped Thumbelina while she was fast asleep, and took her to the little riverboat where she lived with her three sons, Mozo, Gringo, and Grande. When Thumbelina woke up, she got the surprise of her life. It turns out that unknowingly the night before, she and the prince had visited the small boat while he took her on a flight with his own wings. The eldest of the sons, Grande, fell in love because he heard Thumbelina sing. So Mrs. Toad decided to kidnap Thumbelina so that she would travel the world with them, singing, and also marry the eldest son."

America listened to the story as best he could, but after he made the mistake of calling England "brother", his mind could only truly focus on the face England had made. America knew that England was trying to cover his emotions again, because his tone of voice changed. It was more distant...less enthusiastic... The younger country cast his gaze to the side, and tried not to think about it too much...

England continued to tell the story, his voice rising and falling with the story without much enthusiasm. By the time he finished, he felt spent with too many emotions. "And they lived happily ever after. The End." he said, looking up at America.

America whispered, "Will I live happily ever after too..?" He locked gazes with England, and then pulled himself even closer to the other male, his lips now against the skin of England's neck.

England nodded, a chill running down his spine at the contact of lips against skin. "You will, America. Just keep following your dreams, and they'll come true." He whispered the words he had spoken to America so long ago that they seemed like a far off dream now. He reached down and tilted America's chin up with his thumb, and out of sheer habit, kissed him tenderly on the lips. It had been a ritual many years ago as a bedtime bidding, and now...it seemed almost right.

America froze. The two stared at each other for a few moments when it seemed that the reality of what he had done sunk in, and England's face went red. Even in the darkness, America could tell, and he wasn't certain as to what his own expression was...though he guessed that his face was almost as red as England's... "A-ahh..." he stuttered.

England couldn't help but blush. Why the hell had he done that?! "I...I'm sorry, America." he stuttered. What could he do now? Act as if that silly kiss had never happened? And why was his heart thudding in his chest so hard? Why were both their faces so red? Argh! Why did life have to be so complicated?!

The sandy-blonde still didn't move. He had kissed England before, yes, but...that was when he was still a colony! They were brothers back then, it was totally different now! Guys didn't usually kiss guys on the mouth...unless...they were......... He gulped. _...lovers._ But he wasn't thinking straight at the time. All coherent thought was stricken from him once the Brit's lips reached his own, and America could still taste some brandy on his lips. _'Not an over all unpleasant flavor...'_ he added to himself, licking his own lips before shaking the thought from his head. What was he thinking!? There's no way he liked England that way...after all, they might not really be brothers any more, but they were once! And kissing your brother like that is...

England could barely breathe. "Say something, America. You're driving me crazy, just staring at me like that. Or do something. Just...stop staring at me!" He whispered, his eyes wide. What could he do next? But it felt like his mind was blank. Time had stopped, waiting for his next move. Damn it, he just hated to be caught off guard!

America licked his lips again. The flavor of brandy was gone... "Hey...England..." he muttered, sitting up in the darkness. "What...was that?"

Touching his lips, England shrugged a bit. "I...don't know." he muttered. "I'm sorry...are you...mad?" What an odd question. He looked into America's eyes almost shyly. "I'm so sorry...it won't happen again. It was just...a habit. Don't you remember that I used to kiss you like that when you were little...after a bedtime story?"

There was a short silence as America thought back and took into consideration what England had said. He seemed to take this as an acceptable answer, and, laying back down, although this time his back to England, he mumbled, "Don't worry. I'm not mad. Thanks for the story, England. 'Night."

A pang of disappointment shot through England, though he wasn't sure why. With a huge sigh, he also rolled over, his back to the other country. "Good night...America." he whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but sleep did not come easy for him again. He kept remembering the taste of America's lips on his...and how nice it would be to taste them again...wait a minute. _'Damn it, England! Stop it right now!'_ he scolded himself.

America drifted off to sleep rather quickly, although he couldn't stay asleep, it seemed. He kept waking up, something tugging at his mind, but at last he managed to stave off his consciousness long enough to get a good night's rest...until he was rudely awakened by the smell of something...burning?_ 'No...not quite burning...rather...' _America turned over, his arm hitting...the sheets. "Mmh...Eng...land..?" His eyes shot open. England wasn't in bed...and there was an odd smell that was hard to place. He bolted out of bed and rushed into the kitchen, his worst fears being realized. "Aww, England...you promised last night that you weren't going to try and feed me anymore!" he whined, watching the man stir what America assumed were scrambled eggs in a pan.

"These aren't for you." England mumbled, still only half-awake after his restless night before. "They're for me. Unless you want some." He held up the pan of browned lumps. Sure they weren't all that great, but once one got past the crunchy parts, it wasn't half bad. After all, he'd been eating this way for all his life. He was used to it.

America blinked, clueless as ever. "Oh. Thanks, England!" He smiled at the shorter yet older country and made his own way to the cabinet beside the dish washer and pulled out a packet of coffee grinds and some powdered creamer, placing the coffee into the already-prepared coffee maker. He always prepared the coffee maker the day before, so he could get his caffeine as fast as possible... He reached into another cabinet, this one more a pantry, really, and pulled out a box of doughnuts, grabbing one to munch on while he waited for his coffee.

"You're going to--" England pressed his lips together and cut himself off. He'd promised America that he wasn't going to comment on his weight or dietary choices anymore. "I mean...can I have one?"

America stopped munching on the slightly-stale doughnut and stared at England, the pastry still hanging out of his mouth somewhat. "Oo vwan...uh dohnuh..? Ohw bweafahs..?" He swallowed. "Really..? You know England, I said that you should stop commenting on my diet. I didn't say that you had to eat what I do..."

"Just give me the damn doughnut." England growled. "Before I rip the one you have out of your mouth and eat that." He poured the crispy eggs onto two plates and set them down at the table, where a cup of milk already sat in his spot.

America pouted as best he could with the doughnut secured back in his mouth, a few crumbs falling to the floor. He munched on it a bit, and when he opened the pantry again, England could've sworn he heard something along the lines of: "Well, it can't be any worse that what YOU'RE eating..."

"Now who is insulting whose cooking? If I can't insult your dietary choices, America, then you can't insult mine." England snapped, flopping down into his seat and salting and peppering his eggs before jamming a crunchy forkful into his mouth unceremoniously. He glared at America. "You know, I still have a fucking headache from last night. So I would appreciate it if you kept your crap to yourself."

"Hey, just imagine what you'd fell like if I hadn't gotten you that water last night! You'd be practically dead!" England opened his mouth to retaliate, but America silenced him by shoving the doughnut in his open mouth. Grabbing a mug from the drainboard next to the sink, he stood next to the coffee maker until he knew there was enough to fill his cup, and poured himself some, fixing it to his liking. He then promptly plopped himself down in the seat across from his "guest".

England continued to chew his food angrily. For a few moments, the only sound in the room being the clinking of fork against plate, and loud chewing. Then England started to feel as if he was being watched. He looked up only to see America staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he demanded.

His gaze didn't falter. All he did was tilt his head a bit and hum once. "Nothing, I guess..." Going back to his coffee, he could barely hide the blush on his cheeks. _'Just wondering about that kiss is all...' _he thought to himself. _'I know it was just habit, but you'd think he would've broken out of THAT habit by now...'_

England pursed his lips a bit and shrugged. He finished off his eggs and put his plate in the dishwasher, as well as his cup of milk. Then he went into the living room without a word to America. He sat wordlessly on the couch, staring at his hands as he recalled the night before. That kiss...why did he keep thinking about it?! Why did he keep recalling how good it had felt? He shuddered, sickened at himself for his thoughts.

After the dishes were tossed into the dishwasher, the usually-spectacled male went into his bedroom to change out of his PJs. Upon re-entering the den, he noted that England was still looking very sullen. "You know...if you want to change clothes, you can borrow some of mine... I'm sure they'll fit you, and I have plenty of hot water, in case you want a shower..."

For a time, it seemed as if England hadn't heard him, but then he looked up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "America..." he whispered. "Come here." He patted the seat beside the him, trying his best to smile, but failing miserably. "I need to talk to you."

Usually, America held no qualms about talking to England, but this time..there was something in his tone. Something in the look in his eyes. America didn't like it... "Gee, England, I'd love to, but I have to get to a meeting of all us countries... Oh! And, uh...you don't know about it because you weren't invited, so, I'll just get going now... Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge, and all that. Bye!" He inched towards the door, but flinched when he heard England's voice. "Get the hell over here, you bloody twat!" America drooped and went over to the sofa, sitting down beside England. "So...what's this about?"

England hesitantly met America's confused eyes. "Last night." he said simply. "I'm sorry."

America stared at him, unblinking. "W-...wait. You're still concerned about it?" The young man grinned. "England, that's what you wanted to say? Ha! You had me all worried there, thinking that someone had died or something! England...seriously. Don't worry about it. I don't mind. I mean, you used to do that before I went to sleep every time when I was little, right? It would've felt weird if you hadn't done that last night!" America made like he was about to get up, but stopped, turning back to England. He stared at him for just a moment, and leaned in, meeting their lips again. Pulling back and laughing at the cross between embarrassment and shock on England's face, he stood up and stated, "There. Now we're even. So don't worry about it anymore, okay?"

England's cheeks flared an even deeper shade of pink than before, and he glared at America. "Go to your meeting. You'll be late." he said gruffly, changing the subject. "I'll be going home now. Thank you very much for opening your home to me last night when I was under...questionable influences." he said very formally, bowing his head a bit.

America's head tilted again, and a confused expression overtook his face. "Meeting..? Ah- Oh! Yes! Meeting! Hahaha! Of course...the.....meeting." The sandy-blonde male began pushing England towards the door, the slightly confused man not giving much more resistance than dragging his heels across the floor. "Well, you should get going then, you'll be missed back home, right? I mean, you were due to get back home last night, so you'd better go!" England was then shoved out the door, and America waved goodbye with an all-too innocent smile on his face. He soon stopped waving, however, and a more serious expression stole his smile away. "Hey, England... Don't touch anymore alcohol, okay..?" After those words were said, he merely shut the door, listening for England's fading footsteps.

The Brit allowed his shoulders to droop as soon as the door was shut, and he walked down the stone pathway, hands shoved into his pockets, and head hung low. Overall, his whole being screamed dejection. As he walked down the street, England tried not to think, not to rationalize. Such actions were meant to be done behind the four walls of his home.

America waited until he was sure that England had gone, and went back to the couch, flopping himself back down. He turned on the TV, although he wasn't exactly into the program, and glanced back at the door. "Like there would ever be a meeting that you weren't invited to... Idiot."

When he arrived at his mansion, England went straight to the bathroom to grab a few painkillers and then went straight to his room, crashing on his bed and just lying there, hands behind his head, as he stared at the ceiling. Why had America been so abrupt and rude to him in those last few minutes? Why had he kissed him a second time? Most importantly, why did it even matter?

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**Please review, or Italy will cry!!! D:**


	3. That Damn Wine Bastard

It had been eleven days. America was sitting in the meeting room, a drink in hand, and the straw in his mouth, though he wasn't really drinking it at the time. England was fussing at France for something, and all France was doing was laughing... England was obviously losing the battle... China was rolling his eyes, something about "Seriously, aru. Why can't you guys just get along for once, aru?" Russia was sitting across from him, smiling over at Lithuania occasionally, and Lithuania...looked like he was about ready to run off and get as far away from Russia as possible... But America kept glancing back over at England, unable to focus on most of what was going on... England hadn't talked to him since that day at his house... And they were the first two at the meeting! America wondered if maybe ENGLAND was mad about the kiss HE had given. _'Oh, come on. I don't care about HIS kiss, but I kiss him, and he avoids me..?'_

"--You flamboyant, over-dressed, perverted excuse for a country!" England finished his rant, panting as he did. All France did was cock an eyebrow and remark, "Okay, England, spill it. What do you have shoved up your ass this time? Oh wait, let me rephrase that. _Who_ do you have shoved up your ass this time? Cuz obviously, he ain't workin' it enough for you." He smirked, holding up a rose out of nowhere. "There are places and things to help you with that kind of thing, England." England's mouth dropped open. "Why you pompous little bit--" "Can't we just go on with the meeting, aru?" China interrupted.

"I agree with Chuugoku-san. We need to begin fixing these problems, not creating new ones to deal wi-" "Damn it Japan, I said to get your OWN opinion! Quit just agreeing with everyone else!" "Come now, Switzerland, leave the man alone, will you?" "Why should I, Estonia!?" "*Sigh.* I wonder if we'll ever get started with the actual meeting..?" "Who?" "I'm Canada..." America was still not paying attention. France glances over at him, grinned, and stared back at the fuming England. "Ah. I see. I knew you were kinky, England, but with your ex-brother..? My, my. How scandaleux."

England's face heated up. "Wha-WHAT?! Who said anything about that?! No! Just no! No way!" He widened his eyes and sunk down lower into his seat, his face a brilliant red. "You're a sick being for even thinking that sort of thing, France. I don't know why I even talk to you." He crossed his arms, glaring back at the other country.

There was a hand placed on America's shoulder, and he jumped slightly at the unexpected contact. He wheeled around, and spotted Spain, who was sporting his usual smile. "You seem sort of quiet today, America. I think you're freaking everyone out!" "Ah...yes...sorry. I'm fine, I just have other things to deal with at the moment..."

As usual, France honed in on the subject of attention. "I'm sure you do, America. Like...what position you and your British lover over here are going to do it in tonight...or how fast you can go...or better yet, how to make him orgasm harder and faster! I've got plenty of magazines if you want to borrow them." His smirk deepened when several wads of balled-up paper hit him from at least five or six directions.

In addition to the paper balls, America threw a french fry at him, totally missing its target. He sulked. "Damn it, that was a perfectly good french fry... I didn't even hit him..."

England stood up abruptly, rubbing his temples. "Excuse me for a moment. I need some fresh air." he said before he left the room. Behind him, he heard Italy ask Romano, "What's wrong with England today?" "Who cares?" Romano shrugged, rolling his eyes. And then the door shut soundly behind him, blocking out whatever idiotic thing France was about to say. England walked down three flights of stairs and pushed open the double doors, stepping out into the sunlight.

With all the commotion, no one noticed as Japan slipped out and followed after England, tracking him outside. "Ano...sumimasen...Igirisu-san?"

England slumped down on a nearby bench, holding his head in his hands. "Nothing. It's nothing." he muttered, biting his lip. Why was Japan out here? What did he care?

Japan's head tilted downwards, although his gaze was still fixed on England. "If you say so... But I just wish to know one thing. Does it really involve Amerika-san, or are you simply angry with Furansu-san?"

Damn it. Japan was too intuitive for his own good. "It's...it's about America." he found himself muttering.

"Would you care to tell me about it?" Japan lifted his hand, and pushed his hair just slightly behind his ears, although it just fell right back into place. "If it's something you would rather keep to yourself, then I shall just go back into the meeting room." The truth was, Japan had sort of noticed a pattern occurring with everyone. America and England would have a fuss and wouldn't talk to each other, while France would make England even more irate by making crude comments, usually about how he was angry so much because he wasn't getting laid enough. Japan was getting somewhat tired of the normalcy of this, and wanted to know exactly what was going on.

"He...he kissed me." England said. "But...I kissed him first. Out of habit. But he kissed me too. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it ever since! The memory of the feeling is driving me crazy. All I keep thinking about is that I want more, but I know I don't! I don't love him, Japan! He abandoned me! He has no right to even be considered a lover! But..." England shut his mouth tightly, not wanting to continue his tirade. "I...I don't know what is wrong with me." he finished simply.

The oriental male simply blinked. "Ano...I'm afraid that I don't quite understand. You...kissed him...because of...habit? And then he kissed you in return. And you want it to happen again, but...you....... Igirisu-san, can you explain more clearly what happened?"

England chuckled weakly. "Well, it's kind of embarrassing, really." he muttered. "On the night of America's party, I went and got drunk...he found me...or rather...I found him by crashing into him when I came out of the bar. He took me to his house. He got me sober, but we had a huge fight and both went to bed with sour feelings. During the night, America thought he heard a ghost, so he came and crawled into my bed like he used to when he was younger. Then I told him one of his favorite bedtime stories from when he was just a little colony, and after the story, I kissed him on the lips...like I used to when he was little." England paused for breath and glanced up at Japan, to gauge his reaction. "After that, things became awkward between us and we went to bed again. The next morning, I made breakfast and we fought again. I went out to sit on the couch while he ate, and he came in and kissed me back, simply because I told him I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss from the night before. And now...now I don't know what to do!" he sighed.

Japan nodded, a look of understanding crossing his features for the first time since he walked out there. "Ah, I see. And he kissed you because you were troubled with kissing him in the first place. Is that incorrect?" He waited until England shook his head. "And you are now upset because Furansu-san made mentions of Amerika-san and yourself partaking in intercourse, which only reminded you of the events you just spoke of." He walked over to, and sat down on the bench, placing himself beside England.

"That's part of it, yes." England said, glancing at the dark-eyed man. "Mostly, I'm angry at myself. I've never been so unsure and so caught off-guard about anything before, and now that I don't have a plan as to what to do next...it's been driving me a bit on the insane side, you know? And...I feel like...kissing him...felt right. I don't know why. I want to do it again, and that bothers me a lot." The British man folded his hands in his lap, staring down at his green khaki pants and boots.

The oriental thought about this for a moment. "Do you suppose that, perhaps, you just desire his attention, since he declared his independence from you? That you just miss your younger sibling?"

"He's not my sibling!" England snapped, before shaking his head and resting it in his hands. "I'm sorry. But...maybe you're right. Maybe I just...want my America back. I want everything to be the way it was before he decided that he was more than just a colony."

Japan stared at England for a moment, and in true Japanese form, thought about what to say before he said anything. "I didn't mean that he was your brother now. And that is the point I was trying to make. He is no longer your brother...and you aren't content with that...are you? Have you spoken with him?"

"No I haven't. I've really kind of ignored him since I left his house that day." England admitted.

"I see. I think you should speak with him. Maybe he doesn't know that it's bothering you." Japan stood up, and a breeze blew his hair just a bit. "It might be bothering him as well."

"He knows that it bothers me...but I don't know about him." England said, standing as well. "Ah well...let's get back inside. Who knows what kind of mayhem they've stirred up now?" With that, England expected Japan to drop the subject.

For the most part, the subject was, in fact, dropped, but when they were passing by the vending machines, Japan suddenly said, out of the blue, "I could talk to him for you..."

"You would?" England was surprised. Japan never would have offered his services to an Allied before this. But now...with the predicament, he couldn't refuse. "Thank you, Japan. That would be most appreciated." he said, a bit formally.

Japan bowed slightly, something that was traditional where he came from, and muttered. "Of course." They walked back into the meeting room, and it was, if possible, in even more chaos than when they had left. Germany wasn't there to keep the peace, because he had caught a small cold, and so everyone was taking this time to go crazy... Japan merely sighed. He was too old for this...

England stepped forward and raised his hands. "EVERYONE! QUIET DOWN!" he said loudly, causing everyone to look at him. France's smirk crept back onto his face, but before he could say anything, England slammed his hands down onto the table. "I'm taking over this meeting again, so everyone sit down and listen to me!"

America puffed out his cheeks. "Why do you get to run this meeting? I want to run the meeting!" "Yeah right! Like we'd let YOU run this thing America! You're like, the one who's causing most of the problems in the first place! Like, totally serious." "I'm afraid that Poland is right..." "Who?" "Canada..."

Italy waved his hand. "England, I want to take over!!!" America pointed at him. "Italy, sit down or I'll take your pasta away!" Italy's face went from happy to sad in less than two seconds. He held up a white flag while he flopped back down onto his seat. "No, no, no, no!!! I surrender, I surrender!" England rolled his eyes. "I'M taking over this meeting, so all of you...SHUT UP!"

The room went totally silent, save for Italy's "Pata, pata, pata", and America slid down in his seat, pouting like a child, his arms crossed and cheeks puffed out. "Don't be such a baby, you damn bastard..." America shot a glare at Romano, and had opened his mouth to say something back, but was interrupted by England.

England growled softly, glaring at America as his hands shook, but being the ever-typical man who hated having others see his true feelings, he turned away from the opposing country towards the papers on the table. "As you can see, population has risen to an all-time high in the last decade..." But he forced his eyes to never again return to America's. He was afraid he'd lose his composure if he did.

France immediately spoke up. "Don't look at me, I use condoms..." "You're not going to suggest that we stop having sex, are you!?" Spain sounded panicked, and there were murmurings around the room. China murmuring something about, "If I can handle so many people, you guys can too, aru..." and Russia grinning about "There's plenty of room at my place! Why don't you all come live with me?"

At Russia's reply, Italy's eyes grew panicked and he clung to the nearest person to him, which happened to be America. "I don't want to live with Russia, America!" His flag waving had stopped as he cowered, and England rolled his eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying, the only country that hasn't really gone up in population is...my country."

"Ah!" America shouted, the contact being fully unexpected. "I-Italy, relax, Russia was just kidding!" Russia tilted his head, and his expression turned into that of hurt. "You don't..._want_ to come live with me..?" The whole room looked over to him, and Lithuania hesitantly (and very bravely, in the opinions of most sitting in the room,) spoke up. "Well, Russia...it...it is very cold where you live..." "Ah! Yes, you're right, Lithuania! I'll just have to take over Spain so people can live there! It's nice and warm in Spain!" Spain let out a frightened noise, and sunk down in his chair. Lithuania muttered something about that "not being what he meant", but didn't actually have the courage to say it too loud this time. America spoke up. "Don't worry Spain! I'd help you out! Helping people is what heroes do! I'll go ahead and start planning an army! Hmm...besides Spain, I'm sure that Japan would help...and of course France would be on my side... "I most certainly would not!" "Aww, France! You really don't like me, do you?" "Not in particular... But I bet more people like you than England. Ten years, and his country's population hasn't gone up much? How sad..." He smirked over at the ever-increasingly irate Englishman.

"By my choice, not by anything else." England retorted. "Unlike some of us, I'm not a whore who goes around sleeping with everyone he can get naked with." Okay, the words surprised even him, as he was not known to speak out so crudely when sober, but France was getting on his last nerve. China's eyes widened. "That was not a nice thing to say, aru." he reprimanded the Englishman, but England scowled. "Back to the meeting!"

America stood up quickly, slamming his hands on the desk. Leaving his drink on the table, he began to walk away, moving towards the door. "No, England, China's right. You're accusing everyone of the same thing, and that's not fair. I, personally, would never sleep with anyone I didn't absolutely know I was in love with. I'm not like France." Said man raised his hand. "Guilty." "Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to be doing than listening to someone who doesn't know shit accusing me of something I'm not doing. Good day." And with that, he walked out, everyone staring after him in shock, until everyone's attention simultaneously switched to England, who was still staring out the door, his mouth agape. France's expression didn't change. "Wow. When you two have a lover's quarrel...you two _really_ have a lover's quarrel..."

England didn't know what to think. "I...I didn't mean...him...specifically..." And then he was running again. "America! Wait! Please!" Completely ignoring France and everyone else in the room, England ran out the door, calling for the angered country. France looked at everyone else. "Is it just me, or is there something deep going on between those two? And when I say deep, I mean--" "Oh, shut up, France!" came at least a dozen voices at once. "These meetings are rather...dramatic...don't you agree?" "Who are you?" Italy looked over at the quiet voice who'd spoken to him. "Canada." "Oh. Pasta?" Italy held up a bowl full of noodles, and Canada shook his head. "No, thank you." "Who are you talking to, Italy?"

America's combat boots made a dull "_tak, tak, tak_" as he swiftly walked down the hallway, passing by a few drink machines...then the restrooms...then Sealand and Latvia who were talking casually and walking the other way...and finally arrived at the double doors that led outside. He stopped to turn the handle, when he felt something slam into his back, knocking him forward, and out of the building, America landing face down in the dirt. "Ah...d-...don't stop so suddenly! Dumbass..." "Wha...England!? Watch where you're going! What do you want..?"

"I came...to talk." England muttered, not looking at the other country. He was usually bad at expressing his feelings like this, and he wondered how he was going to get America to understand without misinterpreting his words. "I...I didn't mean it that way, America."

The younger country rolled over, England still on top of him, and supported himself on his elbows. "England...can you get off me, please?" His eyes widened in surprise when England shook his head, burying his face in America's jacket. "I can't let you go yet... I'm not done..." "O...okay. Then...what is it?"

England tried to open his mouth, tried to form the words he wanted to say, but as always, pride got in the way of feelings. "I...I...I want..." "England! England! Engla--oh there you...are." Unbeknownst to the poor Brit, everyone had run out to see if they could help the two estranged countries, but of course, seeing England on top of America gave everyone the wrong idea. As usual. England looked up to see a huge dopey grin on France's face, and he groaned.

France spoke first. "Well well. It's a good thing we didn't get here any later, isn't it?" Japan was next. His face was a deep pink, and he had his mouth covered. "Right here in public..." Spain was after him, and it was clear that he found nothing odd about the situation by his tone. He was serious. "Sorry about the sudden interruption, we can leave if you want!" "Were America and England about to have sex?" ...everyone's gaze turned to Italy. He had definitely spent too much time with France and his Grandpa Rome... About that time, Poland spoke up. "Ah, we're having sex? Cool. All of us?"

China facepalmed. "No, we're not ALL having sex, aru! Just these two." He motioned towards England and America. The Englishman's face turned nearly purple with embarrassment, and he scrambled to get off of the younger country. "N-n-no! It's not like that!" "Oh sure, you two sure looked like you were about ready to fuck each other." France retorted. "Just admit it, England. You are so into America. The way you look at him...the way you two argue like a married couple...the way you always try to defend yourself so adamantly and quickly...it all points to the fact that you are head over heels in love with him!"

As America sat up more fully, he began to rub the back of his head, brushing some of the dirt out of his hair. "See, I told you to get off..." "You were going to rape him, aru!?" "Ah~ All of this is making me want to touch Aniki's breasts!" China shivered slightly at the comment. "A-aru..." "Okay, okay, guys that's enough! England was not trying to rape me!" Hungary's expression drooped just a bit. No one paid it much mind. "We're broth-! ...we _were_ brothers, and if England was feeling that way about me, then I'm sure he would have said something about it when he was drunk at my house the other day..."

Of course, France caught onto the message the wrong way. "Oooh! So he was at your house...and he was drunk?! Oh ho ho, so were _you_ the one that took advantage of him, America?" "Shut UP, France!" England shouted. He was so angry and embarrassed that he could barely see straight. He turned to America and shook his head. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." And he picked himself up and ran. Ran far away from the other countries, who were dumbfoundedly watching him.

America stared after him for a moment, and glanced back at France, before picking himself up and running after his former-big brother. "...what did I say?" was all that France had to respond with.

"England! Wait!" America ran full force, and he was still unable to keep up with the Brit. After a few minutes of running, he finally gave up, and decided a different method would be best. He knew instantly where to go, and that's where he headed; back to the bar where he first ran into England those few nights ago.

"Give me a shot of vodka." England muttered to the bartender. The man nodded and filled his order. England gulped down the alcohol. enjoying the burn sliding down his throat. On and on he went. He'd just gulped down the last of his fifth shot when he heard America's voice over the din of the bar. "America?" he gasped, trying to duck his head and hide, but it was too late. America had seen him, gone over to him, and plopped himself right down on the stool beside him. "What do you want?" the Brit mumbled.

"I want a beer." England blinked. "Oh, don't look at me that way, I can have a beer if I want! Sorry I don't have refined tastes like you..." He ordered his drink, and took a few swigs before turning back to the dark blonde. "France is a bastard, huh? Doesn't know when to shut up... If you don't want to get laid, then that's your decision, right? And...you being in love with me...ridiculous, right? I mean...you're my big brother..." America's gaze shifted back to the brownish liquid sloshing around in his mug.

"I _was._" England mumbled. He didn't dare look at America now. Not with the current situation. He ordered a Bloody Mary this time, but didn't drink it. Instead he stared at the bubbles quietly, his whole body tense.

Taking another big gulp to help loosen him up, he sighed, and began running his finger around the rim of the mug, his other arm on the edge of the bar. "Yeah...was... You know, England...you might not know this, but I still consider you my brother... You're always there if I need you, and we seem to be on pretty good terms right now..." He wondered to himself why he was getting so sappy all of a sudden... _'It's the drink. It must be the alcohol...'_ That's what he told himself, even though he only had a few sips.

The Brit took a sip of the red liquid. It gave a nicely-added buzz on top of the buzz he was already feeling. "Heh...you think?" he asked, looking sideways at his former colony.

"Mmm... I do. I mean, not the best of terms, but...it's an improvement from before. I know you're still bitter, but you don't have to make it so painfully obvious..." Finishing off his beer, he reached into his wallet to make sure he had brought enough money for another round, and, feeling a little more brave, ordered a tequila, on the rocks. He didn't really want to get drunk tonight, but a little something to lift his mood sounded pretty good...

England arched an eyebrow at the blue-tinted tequila that America now sipped, and then out of nowhere he grinned like an idiot. Maybe it was from all that drinking. Who knew? "Who's making it obvious?" he retorted. "You know...I really wasn't talking about you when I was saying all that crap about whores back there...I was talking about that son of a bitch, France." Man, he needed to drink more often before talking to America. It really loosened him up! He took another long swig of his drink.

A loud and very unmistakable laugh filled England's ears. "I thought you wanted to insult him, England? That's a compliment to a guy like that. Next time, tell him that the only reason he can get guys in bed is because he looks like a girl."

England snorted into his drink, burning red liquid shooting out of his nose and back into the mug. He coughed a bit. "Wow...now that you mention it...you're right!" he gasped, coughing a bit more.

"I'm right about what? That it's a compliment, or that he looks like a girl?" America had begun to hit his former big brother on the back, helping him get the liquid out of his chest, and then drained the rest of his own liquor. He decided soon after that, that he should stop drinking so fast, because he could feel his mind beginning to cloud. Regardless, he ordered another shot.

Finally setting down his mug and coughing one last time, England gasped for breath. "Thanks, America." he wheezed, grinning lopsidedly at the younger man. His head was spinning, and he was sure he saw two Americas...so which one was he to thank? He leaned forward and would have fallen out of the chair, if it hadn't been for America #1. catching him beforehand.

"Ah- You idiot, I told you not to drink so much! How much did you have before I got here!?" The younger country picked him up and put him back on the stool, making sure that he was securely on it before quickly gulping down the rest of his drink and taking a moment to recover from the sudden buzz. He dug around in his wallet and paid his bill, asking for England's bill soon after. He took a look at it...and slipped his hand into the Brit's pocket. "Sorry England, but I'm not going to pay for all those drinks you had... Wait. Hey, bartender... You don't take pounds, do you?" The bartender shook his head. America sighed. "I guess...that I WILL pay for all those drinks you had... You owe me, England..." He reached back into his wallet, and pulled out his credit card, since he didn't have enough cash, and when the bartender told him about England's visit the previous week when he paid with his own currency, America flopped his head down on the bar. "Damn it, England!" He paid anyway, and the two were on their way. "Come on, you're well enough to walk... We're going back to my house."

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**Oh ho ho! What will happen next? **

**Reviews are very welcome! :3**


	4. Drunken Lust and a Confession

**Chapter 4! God, I just love England being drunk. It's one of the greatest things in Hetalia. XD**

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England hiccupped, his head still in a whirl as America led him out of the bar and back to his house, the routine coming full circle from the week before. Soon, he sensed himself being laid down in the guest bedroom yet again. "America-kun?" he whispered, opening his glassy eyes a bit.

"Mmm. And look wh're we are...again." He slurred just slightly, the only thing indicating his light intoxication. "I told you...t'stop drinkin' so much, England! What...'m I gonna do with you..? Oh yeah, next time...I'm at your place? Yeah, YOU buy ME drinks, mm-kay..?" He could feel it. The alcohol was making its way through his system, and his body was feeling even heavier than it had when they had left the bar. "I shouldn't have'ta buy you drinks, Engl'nd. Yer not my girlfriend..."

"Last time I check'd...I had a penis...not a vag'na." England retorted, his voice thick with intoxication. Then he grinned, reaching up and pulling America down by his coat zipper. "Ya know...yer...real cute when yer angry..." he slurred, gazing into America's equally-glassy eyes.

If he would've been fully sober, maybe he would've caught it, but as it stood, he was really more concerned with the first statement that England made. "Y'may not have a vagina, but I bet I c'd still give it to ya' up the ass..." The two countries' gazes never broke, and they just continued to smirk at each other, their lips not terribly far apart.

"O r'ly?" England smirked. "Prove it." He leaned forward, their foreheads touching as they gazed at each other, not blinking. "I will nev'r blink!" the drunken Brit jeered, snerking at the other man.

America, perhaps conceding defeat, or maybe just out of surprise...blinked. His smirk vanished, and he tilted his head. "You _want_ me to fuck you?"

England's smirk deepened. "Nope." And he pushed America back, hovering over him on the bed, hands planted on either side of his head. "Let's see how much f'n we kin have, m'kay?" he grinned, gazing down into America's beautiful--and quite shocked--blue eyes.

The sandy blonde boy was now quite certain he was sobering up fairly quickly. What was that feeling..? Panic? Or...was it just adrenaline? Shock? He wasn't sure. So many thoughts were running through his head, and although the situation had sobered him up a little, his mind was still quite fuzzy. The thoughts that were more hidden away thanks to the alcohol, the thoughts that were trying so desperately to get to the surface, told him that he was going to regret this later, possibly more than he had ever regretted anything in his entire life...even more than he regretted seeing the devastated expression on England's face when he fell to his knees in the rain those two hundred something years ago. But those thoughts weren't nagging hard enough. They wouldn't fully register, and America had gone into a state of such shock, that even the situation itself hadn't quite registered yet. He just lied there, staring into the predatory eyes of the other male.

"Oh...America..." England whispered, leaning down and touching the other male's nose with his own. His heart was beating faster and faster, but sober reasoning had not yet returned to him. He leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against the shocked boy's, pushing his tongue into a shocked, but willing mouth. "Hmmmm." he moaned, deepening the kiss further. "How I've long'd fur this..."

America made a few displeased noises, struggling a bit before falling limp on the sheets, hesitantly and slowly reaching up to grip tightly at the sides and back of England's olive green suit. England was actually a pretty good kisser, America found, and he couldn't help but be surprised. For some reason, he had always imagined the Brit having never kissed anyone before, but the way he kissed, and what he was doing with his tongue...it showed experience. Or Maybe England was just a naturally good kisser... The younger country hummed just slightly, a hint of fear audible in the cry, although England wasn't paying attention.

"America..." England whispered before moving his head to kiss down the younger country's neck, and up to his ear, where he nibbled and licked and sucked at will, drawing the most arousing sounds from the boy. Meanwhile, America's legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

America knew it was wrong. He knew it was wrong, and he wanted to push England away, but the soft, moist lips on his own, the hot, wet tongue invading his mouth, moving out to graze his neck and ear... He had never felt like this before, and he was curious for more. They were brothers...at one time. But that thought was far from America's mind as he spurred the older male on with his moans and cries. He was confused, yes. What had just happened? How did it all start? He didn't really remember. He knew that it had to stop, but he didn't want it to. Knew that he had to protest, but couldn't form anything other than words of encouragement and pleasure. He was helpless in the arms of his once older brother. And he loved it.

England's hands moved to pull off the signature aviator jacket that America always wore, dropping it to the floor. Then he reached up and started to unbutton his shirt, allowing his fingers to move down his neck to his chest, leaving sharp nips to the skin. In his hazy mind, this was amazing, but at the same time, somewhere deep in that same mind where conscious thought struggled to regain a foothold, he knew this was not right. He shouldn't be goading America into this like he was. But the lust won out as he put his mouth around one of America's taut little nipples, nipping at it and sucking on it.

America felt bliss. He arched his back, and the only word he knew at that moment in time was gasped out into the darkness of the room. "England!" He swore that he was in heaven. England's mouth was doing such wonderful things to him... But...he just didn't know... How could something so incredibly wrong, feel so amazing? His thoughts jumped back to France. _'I knew you were kinky, England, but with your ex-brother..?' 'Just admit it. The way you look at him...the way you two argue like a married couple...the way you always try to defend yourself so adamantly and quickly...it all points to the fact that you are head over heels in love with him!' 'He was at your house...and he was drunk?! Oh ho ho, so were you the one that took advantage of him, America?'_ America's body jerked. "N-no..." England didn't stop. "No! England, I can't do this, I don't want to take advantage of you!" America tried again to push England away, actually managing to get a small amount of space between them this time. "I don't want to do this just because we're both drunk..."

England pulled back, his eyes wide. "America! I'm n't drunk! Let me taste you some more, babe..." His head flew back down to America's stomach, where his tongue drew circles around the boy's navel, ignoring America's growls and demands for the other to stop.

Frustrated moans could be heard coming from the dirty-blonde, and eventually, he couldn't take it any more. "England...no! Nnh... I said...I said _stop!_" And a smack rung out as America repeated the action he had done just the week before last, slapping England on the cheek. Both men were panting, and England's face reflected surprise. "England...I won't let you do this. I'm not going to take advantage of you! I know that you already hate me because of the war, but if I let you do this while you're in this state, you'd never forgive me! I know that you're only doing this because you're not thinking clearly, and I don't want it to be like that! England, if we do this...I want it to be because we love each other. Not b'cause we're thinking through the haze of alc'hol..." His slurring had gone down...that was a good sign. He hoped...

England's cheek stung from the slap, and he gazed wordlessly at America. "Amer...ica..." he whispered, touching his cheek. "I...I don't hate you...I...I...I never did. I was just...angry...and jealous." Why was he spilling his guts now? What good would it do? But his intoxicated mouth wouldn't quit. "I hated that you wanted to live apart from me...I was jealous that you wanted independence more than you wanted to be with me."

America shook his head. "No, England...that's not it! One reason that I wanted independence was so you would pay more attention to me! You never let me go to the meetings, because I was 'just a colony'! You didn't come to visit much anymore because of finances and issues back home! England, we see each other now way more than we did then! I know that I'm not really a part of you anymore...but it's because of that that we're here together now!" England looked as if he had come to some kind of understanding, or at least, like he was thinking it over... America decided to take this time to try and sit up, but a hand on his chest prevented that. "Uhh...England..?"

"No...I won't let you up. I won't let you go again! Don't you understand?!" England cried, pushing America back down onto the bed. "Ever since we kissed that night...I've felt different towards you! I can't explain it...but...I feel like...I feel like I need you here...with me. I don't feel right without you."

America tried to say something, but a not entirely foreign pair of lips sealed his own, keeping him from speaking. America's eyes shot open, and he arched his back involuntarily as he felt a hand working his pants zipper, gloved fingers slipping below the pants line. He tried to protest, really he did, but England was so insistent, and he just wouldn't let up... America wasn't sure what to do anymore, but if things kept going like this, then he was sure to get swept away...

England's heart beat furiously as his fingers closed around something long and semi-hard. He gazed down at America, whose eyes were half-lidded as he tried to protest. "Don't you want this, baby?" he whispered, kissing America yet again, reveling in the softness of the boy's lips.

The boy whimpered. He was scared, he would readily admit that, but he wasn't sure that he wanted it to stop... And that only scared him all the more. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, and he was certain that he could hear the thudding in his ears. He whimpered again, but it was useless. England was completely ignoring his pleas. The American man shifted uncomfortably under the Brit, but was, by this point, completely useless in his actions.

The drunken Brit heard the blonde boy whimpering, and he looked down at him again. "America?" he whispered, pulling his hand out of the boy's pants and really looking at him. "Are you alright?" Conscious thought was slowly seeping back into his mind, and something told him to ask America that, because the boy wasn't looking so eager for any of this. France's words from earlier came back to his mind. '_The way you look at him...the way you two argue like a married couple...the way you always try to defend yourself so adamantly and quickly...it all points to the fact that you are head over heels in love with him!' 'He was at your house...and he was drunk?!'_ He pulled in a sharp intake of breath and winced. "America...love...I'm so sorry." he whispered, pulling the shocked man into his arms. "I love you so much, America...honest I do. I don't want to do this to you."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes, and his arms wrapped around the other's body. He buried his face in the older male's shoulder and sniffled. "England..." he whispered, his voice muffled by the khaki-green material. "England...I need to know something... How...exactly...do you feel about me..? You said 'love', but...what kind of love is it..?"

"I'm in love with you, America..." England whispered. "I have been for the longest time...it's just taken me a long time to finally realize it. Ever since you were small, I admired your pluck and determination, and when you grew up, I admired your spirit. But when you left me, it devastated me." England tilted America's head back and pressed his lips to the other boy's in a real kiss, not one brought on by intoxication and not one that had been the end of a bedtime story. But a real kiss that he hoped would tell America how he really felt. "I do love you...more than you know." he said, pulling away.

Clinging tighter, America sniffled again. Oddly enough, America suddenly felt safe again, being in England's arms, even though he was so afraid in the same arms just moments before. "Thanks, England..." The two males sat there like that for a little while, just lying in each other's arms, until America tried once more to sit up. He succeeded this time, and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Just give me a bit to calm down, okay..?"

"Sure. I need a drink of water anyway. If I don't, I'll be sure to have a hangover tomorrow. I'll get you one too." England started to get up, but a hand on his wrist kept him from doing so. "America...?" he asked.

America jerked his hand back. "Ah...sorry... Umm, I...I didn't have as much to drink as you, so I probably don't need anything... Thanks, though." England hesitated, but nodded, soon returning with but a single glass of water. He found America sitting on the edge of the bed now, slouching just slightly, his hands in his lap. "Sorry I don't have any tea for you." he whispered.

England took long, slow sips of the cool water, feeling his mentality finally returning to normal, albeit slowly. His mind still felt fuzzy around the edges, but at least he could think and reason again. But when he again offered the water to America, the man refused, which worried England. America would still end up having a hangover if he didn't drink anything, so he took in a mouthful and leaned over, pressing his lips to America's before the boy could say anything. He poked his tongue out, careful not to spill any water, and forced America's mouth open, making him drink the water directly from his mouth. "Mmm..." he sighed.

America scrambled a bit, coughing through his nose until the liquid successfully found its way down his throat. Once England pulled back, America coughed through his mouth instead, the light struggle having put England on top of him one more, America pinned against the headboard. They were finding themselves in similar positions more and more it seemed... "E-England..!" he choked out, wiping a bit of water from the side of his mouth, where some had trickled out. "I said I didn't need any, you could've drowned me!" He took a few breaths, and pouted, a rather cute look, given the situation...

"It wasn't more than a tablespoon of water, America. You can't drown from that little bit of water." England said, adoring the way America looked when he pouted. He placed his hands on either side of the headboard, locking America in place between them. "I'm sorry, America. You okay?"

"Fine..." the once-colony replied, eying England's hands cautiously. "Just fine." He sighed in defeat. "Gimme some of that water..." England chuckled and handed him the glass, which America nearly drained, leaving just a few sips left. "You know England, if you would just learn to deal with your problems instead of getting drunk every time, neither one of us would be in this mess..."

"But alcohol feels good." England admitted. "It erases every stress and worry I have, even if it's only temporary." He sat back on the bed, cross-legged, and stared at America. "I didn't know how to deal with the fact that I loved you, when you left me first, and I didn't know how to deal with that bastard of a country, France, when he started saying all those things." He sighed, resting his chin in his hands. "I just...don't know how to express my emotions unless I'm drunk."

America swiftly looked up at him, the sandy-blonde male still against the headboard. "That's no good! Well...I guess it doesn't really matter anymore though..." He lied down, his arms behind his head, and stared blankly up at the ceiling. "But...I suppose I should give you an answer, huh..? I mean, I never really gave you one..."

England's heart rate sped up and he looked quickly at America. "No...I suppose you didn't." He sighed. "Alright, just tell me you want me out of your house and you never want to see me again." He muttered, looking down.

"England, I would never kick you out of this house!" he reprimanded. "I can't believe you would think that..." He frowned, turning over so that his back was facing the British male. "You were my brother. You took care of me for so long... It would take more than something like this to get me to kick you out..."

England was confused. "But...I just confessed my apparently undying love for you...doesn't that, you know, creep you out? Aren't you worried that I would rape you in the middle of the night?" He had to grin slightly at this one. As if he would actually rape America. Ha! The thought was so entirely ridiculous. "I mean...we WERE brothers." He scooted over so he was sitting behind America and wrapped his arms around the younger male.

"That doesn't mean that what I've been feeling isn't real..." Feeling England's arms wrap around him, he relaxed. "And besides, we're not brothers anymore. Even if we were, we wouldn't be blood brothers, because you adopted me, remember..? So..." Here, he trailed off. He didn't really know what else to say, a rare feat for the lad. He could feel a light tint of pink coming to his cheeks, but at least he was pretty much sober again, thanks to the whole previous scenario, and England seemed almost normal again as well... Almost.

"What you've been feeling..." England repeated. "What exactly ARE you feeling, America?" he asked, his heart thudding against his ribcage almost erratically.

America's muscled tightened as he curled into a lopsided ball. "You could ask me that all day, and I _still_ wouldn't know what to tell you... At first, I just thought that I felt bad about the effect my independence had on you, but if that was so, it should've gone away by now... When we kissed, that was the first time I had felt something different about being near you, and the hurt was gone. Now, you were feeling me up, and I was scared that we would have sex but then tomorrow, you would be gone...just like you always are when you have to crash here... I thought that you only wanted to have me because you thought that doing that would make me go back with you... I was serious when I said that I didn't want to do it unless we loved each other, England."

America's words made England hang his head, ashamed. "Am I that much of a bitch?" he asked the boy. "That you would think that I'd leave you after having sex with you? I may be awkward with serious conversation, but I'm not heartless." He sighed, leaning over America to kiss him on the cheek, much like he used to in the old days. "I won't press you further. Right now, it's not about the sex...it's about us becoming closer than we ever were. I'm...I'm sorry I was such a bastard all those years. I never hated you. I just didn't know what to do with the hurt I felt, and it channeled into my temper."

"Don't apologize." America turned over again, this time to face England. "You had a pretty good reason to be mad... But I suppose we should discuss a different matter. One a bit more serious. England...were you really going to fuck me earlier..?" He blushed at the memory. "Cuz I gotta admit...it was kind of turning me on a little bit..."

"It...it what?" England was speechless. "I...I think I was...no...I know I was...if you hadn't stopped me, we'd probably be a sweaty, moaning mass of limbs and bodies right now." A blush crept up his neck. "And this was a serious conversation...how?"

He avoided England's gaze. "Well, I was curious... And sex is no joke, England... I really did mean it when I said that I wouldn't sleep with anyone unless I knew I loved them, but that wasn't the only condition... I need them to feel the same, too, so...I'm glad that you do, you know..?" His voice was low, and his tone soft. The usually loud and confident American was now almost as meek as his look-alike brother, Canada.

England could barely hear himself talk over the loud thrumming of his heart. It was beating so fast, it sounded like a hummingbird's wings. "You...you love me...too? But...but how? How can you love...someone like me?" England reached over and took America's hands, holding them delicately in his larger, war-roughened ones. "You honestly...love me? Since when?"

"Tch. Since when have I not? I've been getting off-and-on crushes on you since I was eight..." America's face twinged red at his confession. He didn't have to tell England that much, did he!? But the damage was done...and he didn't suppose that England would care anyway. He allowed his own hands to turn over, holding England's still-gloved ones, the two men's fingers interlacing. "...would you still have fallen in love with me if I were still your brother..?"

"I've always loved you...even back when we were brothers." England admitted, admiring how their fingers laced together. He closed his fingers tighter around the other boy's, and met his eyes again. "Sounds wrong, I know, but it's the truth. There's no point in hiding it now that we've spilled our guts to each other." His ears were hot as he gazed into America's eyes. "Yes...I do believe that I would have fallen in love with you like this even if we were still brothers."

America said nothing, simply closing his eyes for a few moments. "England..?" he whispered as soon as his eyes opened again. "Will you...kiss me again..?" England could see America's eyes shining, even behind his glasses, those bright blue orbs full of hope and uncertainty, all mingling together to give the boy an expression that could only be found as endearing. "Please..?"

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**Aww! It's about time, right? Leto and I just simply love these two. **

**Please review! We'd greatly appreciate your input.**


	5. Love Making Never Felt So Sweet

**Yay! Smut time! Those of you who hate it, turn back now, or forever hold your peace. You guys have been waiting for this for four chapters, so let's get to it!**

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England's face heated, but he couldn't resist the longing in America's eyes. "Of course." he whispered, leaning in and capturing the American's lips again, this time, pressing fully against the softness of them. Their lips seemed to meld together, creating a sense of perfection and completion. England pulled away slightly before leaning in again, kissing America again and again. His eyes slipped closed as he put his free hand in blonde hair, breathing heavily.

It was right this time. Neither of them were thinking through the haze of booze, they both wanted it, and their lips just seemed to fit together perfectly, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle slipping into place. It was just the two of them, enjoying the moment, tasting each other as their tongues met, dancing to a tune that no one could hear. England's hands felt so good in his hair, doing an amazing job of relaxing him, and the younger boy released his hold, still on England's free hand, to drape it over his waist instead, unable to keep himself from groping a bit.

Moaning quietly at the touch on his back, England kissed America again. And again. The boy's taste was irresistible, and he found that he could easily grow addicted to it. "I love you." he whispered, pulling away for a moment to gaze into America's shining blue eyes. His fingers weaved in and out of the dirty blonde strands of hair on the back of America's head, and his free hand left its companion temporarily to cup the American's face in it, stroking his soft cheek gently. "I love you so much."

Warm. That's what it was. America felt warm. His entire body felt light, and he was happy at England's words. "I love...you...too, England." A smile very clearly formed on the other's face, and America wondered if England felt the same way he did. The two plunged in again and before America could stop himself, he slipped his hand up the Brit's suit, his free hand going to unbutton the front. "I'm sorry..." he whispered. "I can't stop myself right now..."

"Don't stop." England whispered, pushing America back gently onto the bed again. His hands found the boy's tie and with trembling fingers loosened it. The fabric found its way to the floor as England unbuttoned the top buttons of America's shirt as well, and his lips moved south to claim the blonde's neck, leaving lovebites there for the whole world to see. America's face was pure bliss, his eyes closed and his lips slightly open as he gasped with each little nip the British male made to his sensitive skin. England found himself liking that face very much.

Another bite, and England had completely unbuttoned his shirt again, which he had buttoned back when England went to get his water. America knew that he was going to regret those nicks the next day, because England was placing them relatively high up on his neck, but he would worry about that then. For now, he was enjoying England's touch and affection, and when the man pulled open his shirt, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth, America moaned quietly, gripping the green-eyed male's hair. It was completely different than last time, although they were doing the same thing, and America could feel the drastic change from before. Their actions were now fueled by love, not lust, and that made the experience so much better.

As England dragged his tongue sensually up America's chest, circling his pert little nipple several times, he heard the man below him moan. That sound alone sent chills from America's body to England's, the thrill of it settling into his lower regions. When he brought his head back up, England reached up and removed America's glasses, which had fallen down his nose in their passion. He laid them on the table and was down on America again, his movements a bit more aggressive this time. His lips were smashed against America's; their tongues gyrated wildly as their breathing and panting intensified. It was then that England realized that he had straddled America's waist, and had been grinding their still-clothed bodies together. His pants were much too tight, and he could tell that America was uncomfortable too.

The American panted, his breath heated, and gazed up, half-lidded at England. His normally bright blue eyes had deepened to more of a midnight blue, his optics stained with desire and need, and even as England dipped his head again to capture his neck, the sandy blonde man lifted his hands to take care of England's clothing, the blue and green striped tie being tossed beside him carelessly on the bed. Neither man spared a word to the other, as America at last removed the other man's jacket and starting on the buttons of the white collared shirt underneath.

"Are you...are you sure you want this, America?" England whispered, his voice hoarse with desire as he pulled off the other man's jacket and shirt, dropping them to the floor to join the ties. God, America was so beautiful. His skin was pale in the sheer moonlight that reflected off the mirror on the other side of the room. His slight chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing; his eyes were barely visible beneath his eyelids. England leaned down to simply kiss the soft skin of America's abdomen, reaching up with his hands to entwine their fingers again.

America inhaled sharply at the contact of lips to skin, and he opened his eyes fully. "I'm sure I do." was his response, his voice shaky with anticipation. "I love you, England. I want you to keep going. Please."

"Okay." England agreed, lifting himself up a bit to kiss America tenderly on the lips again, before allowing his hands to travel southward, pushing America's previously loosened pants down to his knees. Then he allowed himself to look. Oh, the glorious sight of America was far brighter than any display of birthday fireworks could be. "Oh, America." England whispered.

America flushed red. He had consented, yes, but it was still a little embarrassing having England stare at him like that... "England..." he chuckled. "I wonder what France would have to say about this..."

"Aww, screw France." England muttered, taking his eyes off of America's hard length for a moment to stare back up at the owner of said length. "Besides, he's probably too busy screwing around with your little brother to worry about us right now." He undid his own belt and pants, since they were becoming unbearably tight now as it was.

"France is doing Canada..?" America breathed. "Huh. Maybe Canada's weekends are a bit more entertaining than I first thought..." He started kicking his legs gently to try and shimmy out of the pants that were still around his knees, and succeeded to a point. "Well, my little brother's sex life is none of my business anyway..." England shot him one of those looks. "What!? It's not like I get into everyone's business ALL the time!"

England laughed a bit, shaking his head. "America, darling, you're ruining the mood." he reprimanded, pressing his lips against the others' to keep him from talking anymore. "Now...I want you to tell me what you want me to do."

America tilted his head, a habit he never even realized that he had. "I don't really care, England. As long as it's you, it doesn't matter, does it..?" England blushed. The face America was making was just too innocent and serious for the comment he just made and what they were about to do! America just took England's face in his hands and brought their lips together again, continuing work on England's still-buttoned shirt. He took care of the last two or three buttons that he had missed, and then slipped the cloth of both the over coat and white collared shirt over his shoulders, tossing them carelessly to join the other pile of unwanted clothes. "Hey..." he muttered, breaking the kiss and admiring England's body. "I never knew you were so muscly, England... I always pictured you being a little more wiry." ...he really did have to learn tact...

"Oh really? Wiry like you?" England teased, taking no offence to the comment. He pulled away from America's hold and wiggled his way down to where America desperately needed attention. He touched the firm stiffness with his hand, admiring the groan it pulled out of the man. Then he stuck his tongue out and licked it, loving how America's toes curled and he gasped with the touch.

All senses were temporarily drained from him. He had never felt anything like it before in his life. What England was doing was amazing, and America wanted to feel more. His hands fisted into the sheets, and his back bowed, a single, strangled cry emitting from his mouth. "Eng-ngh!" His eyes had gone half-lidded again, and then...England slid his tongue over the shaft and up to the tip, dipping his tongue into the slit. America inhaled sharply, letting his breath out in short hitches.

England teased America mercilessly, dragging his tongue around the sensitive slit in a way that he knew would drive America mad with want. For the first time in his life, he was so glad that France had written that book on the best way to pleasure your lover! He'd never say anything bad about him ever again with this! Then he went down on the writhing boy, licking and sucking in obscene, delicious ways.

America panted with desire and need, England's tongue doing the most desirable things to him. The submissive male couldn't keep his cries quiet, but as they were the only two in the house, he didn't see the harm in letting his voice be heard. And he definitely let it be heard, his voice echoing throughout the room, and probably the whole house as well, spurring the Englishman on. "England..! England! Ah! Ngh..!"

Said Englishman pulled back, earning a needy growl from America, as he licked his lips of pre-cum. "You know, you sound really sexy when you cry out like that." He said, kissing the man yet again. "But I wonder how sexy you'll sound when you scream."

The sandy-blonde haired boy lifted his left hand to wipe some saliva from the corners of his mouth. His mouth was still half-open, and his head had turned to the side, although his eyes were still on England, and as the boy lay there, his breath gone, he couldn't help but admire England. He really was good at this, and America would really have to compare notes with Canada to see who truly was the most perverse of the two. England, or France? That argument had been going on between the two for a while anyway...

"Now...this may hurt, so I'm going to need some sort of lubricant. Do you have anything that might help?" England asked, fingering the area around America's balls, earning another hiss from the boy. He looked America. He was just so perfect, so beautiful. How did England ever deserve someone like him, especially after 200 years of estrangement?

America thought for a moment, unsuccessfully. "Can't...think of anything...in particular..." He thought through every substance in his house, but only came up with lotion, which he didn't have, and body wash, which he figured might not be the best thing to use. "Sorry..." he breathed. "Just use...pre cum."

"Okay." England agreed. He reached down and smeared some of the sticky substance that was still leaking from America's cock onto his fingers, making sure they were coated completely before he prodded his fingers into America's entrance. "I'm going to put them in, okay?" he warned the boy before pushing one finger in, the pre-cum helping a great deal.

America's muscles tightened. It hurt. Damn, did it hurt! But he never knew of anything else that hurt that amazingly wonderful in his life. His head was thrown back, and he let out a moan, eyes clouding over very quickly. "Hurts..!" he gasped out. "...don't stop..!"

England obeyed America for the first time in his life, wiggling that finger around until he felt the younger man was ready for the second one. This one he pushed in more carefully, scissoring the fingers in the velvety warmth. He groaned. "America...you really are a virgin, aren't you?" he whispered.

The boy shuddered, the pleasure almost unbearable. He had masturbated before, yes. He was still a teenager, after all, but he had never derived so much pleasure from touching himself as he was getting simply from England's fingers. "You're...my first..." he panted, the experience driving him wild.

"Good." That simple fact alone made England's heart swell with gladness. He added one more finger, America groaning from the pain and pleasure. Who knew that three fingers could do that to a person? But then, he pulled them out. England puled away and crawled back up to hover over America, grabbing his knees and hoisting the boy's legs up over his shoulders. "You ready for this, love?"

"Please..." He held his breath, anticipating the moment when England would thrust into him for the first time. Would it feel good? Would it hurt as much as his fingers did, or maybe even more? He fisted his hands into the sheets again, a million thoughts racing through his mind at once.

England carefully positioned himself and gave America's hips a gentle squeeze of assurance before he began to push himself in. He didn't force it. He didn't want to hurt America more than he had already, at least physically anyway. But the sensation of America's tight passage enclosing itself around his cock was such an amazing feeling. "Ungh...god...America...you're so tight and wonderful..." he breathed, pushing himself in a little more until he sank in fully, panting at the awesome pleasure it brought him.

When America felt England push into him, he sharply released the breath he had been holding in a sort of moan. He arched his back, grasping for more of what he had just felt, and he couldn't stop himself. He reached up immediately, and wrapped his arms around England's neck, pulling his torso down on top of him. "England..." he breathed erotically in the Brit's ear. "Oh, England..!"

"Amer...icaaaah!" England groaned as he pulled back and thrust back in, a bit more harshly than he'd intended. But at America's breathy "Move, England." the Englishman obliged, pulling back out and clenching his fists in the sheets. His lips found America's briefly before they moved down the sensitive spot on his neck.

America's arms were still wrapped around England's shoulders, and he threw his head back, a gasping moan escaping from his lips. His whole body burned, almost an unbearable heat. It felt like he was on fire, but at the same time, he felt as if he wanted to be hotter. "Oh, yes! More!" He had lost control of his mouth. He couldn't form rational sentences, but that didn't seem to matter in the current situation. England was being a complete tease, sucking and licking at his neck, and even fondling his nipples with one of his free hands! America had never felt so wonderful in his life.

Settling into a rhythmic thrust with his pelvis, England continued to take America senseless. The former virgin had taken to crying out England's name erratically, his fingernails digging deep into the man's back and shoulders. Heat rushed through his veins before settling into his cock, making it ache with need for release. "Damn, America...why do you tease me so...you're so beautiful that it makes me want you even more than I possibly could be allowed to..." he groaned, rolling his hips and striking something within America's body. "Oh yeah...that's it."

A blinding flash in front of his eyes rendered America temporarily braindead. Whatever England had just done, whatever he had hit, had sent intense shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body, and his cry didn't even fully make it out of his throat. His whole body tensed, and when he regained his vision and movement just a mere second later, he was gasping for breath, even more so than he had been before. "I... I didn't...even know...that pleasure...like that...was possible..." he gasped out in between breaths. He could feel his climax coming soon, and he was amazed that England's last thrust hadn't done it! He pulled the Brit's face up and kissed him deeply, reaching around to nibble his ear, urging him on. "England..." he whispered. "England...England..."

The thrills of the sensations shooting from his ear to his dick just made England moan, erratically thrusting faster than before. "You haven't felt anything...yet..." he whispered back, his voice a hoarse, husky version of itself. Another shuddering thrust, then another. England couldn't hold on much longer. He rolled his hips again, striking that spot once more. "Cum...cum with me...America." he growled, thrusting against America's prostate one more time.

The boy choked out another cry and, unable to hold back anymore, he came, feeling the Brit come inside him; an amazing feeling in and of itself. He fell, limp and gasping on the sheets, and England reached up to kiss him one more time. He felt lighter somehow... Happier. He smiled. "England...where did you...learn...to do that..?"

Panting to catch his breath, England smiled back at his lover as he pulled out of him. "I made sure my alliance with Japan didn't go to waste. Do you know how many yaoi porn DVD's he has stocked up?" A small laugh, and he rested his head on America's chest, tracing a pattern on the soft skin with his forefinger. "I love you so much, Amerika-kun."

It tickled, England's fingers on his skin, but it was a good feeling, and America thought that the placid way the other male's index skated across his chest was a nice contrast from the excitement of before. He leaned his head back, already feeling tired from what happened, and managed to sort of catch his breath. "I love you too, England. And maybe I should see if Japan will let me borrow a few of those DVDs so I can be on top next time!" He sighed. So, what do you think? Come clean about our relationship, or keep it secret, especially from France?"

"Hard to say. Come to think of it, I don't think that too many of them will be surprised." England replied, a thoughtful expression replacing the weary one on his face. "They all keep saying how we fight like a married couple. But France...he'll be the one to badger us." His face screwed up. "That bastard doesn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"That's true..." America replied. "So I guess we'll tell everyone but France, and tell them not to blab?" He grinned. "Then a few months later we'll kiss in front of him, and when he starts making fun of us, everyone will just be frustrated because it's not news to them. France would be so frustrated over that, don't you think?" No sooner had the words left his mouth than there was a knock at the door. America cursed under his breath. "Let 'em knock..."

"America, I know you're there!"

They both froze. "Damn it, it's France!"

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**Ugh, and the wino bastard ruins things again. Or does he? Keep reading to find out!**

**Reviews are like our drug. Addicting, and we need MOAR. :'D**


	6. Giving France The Boot

**Yay for Chapter 6. This one is definitely one of the more interesting chapters. One word: France. Keep reading to find out more about it! :D**

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America struggled to his feet, and noticed immediately that his whole body felt heavy... A nasty side effect, he determined, although he didn't regret what he had let England do. When England offered to go in his stead, America refused. "It's France at the door. He's going to get suspicious if you go, isn't he?" England backed down. America quickly slipped on his pair of pants, ignoring the underwear, and at France's third "If you don't open up soon, I'm going to assume you're bedding someone!", America shouted back, "Shut up, I'm coming! Bastard..." The door flung open. "What is it, then!?"

France grinned. "Just came over for a visit." Immediately, the familiar smell of sex assaulted his nose, and his grin grew wider. "Can't I simply visit one of my favorite countries?" He flung his arm around America, pushing his way through the door. From the bedroom, England shrank back into a corner by the bed, clutching his pants to his lower regions as France's footsteps came closer to the bedroom. "Damn it! That bastard ruins everything!"

Panic shot through America. "You can't go in there!" He pulled on France's arm, and managed to stop him. "Umm...England had to spend the night because he went out drinking after your last comment. He needs rest!" Something told America that France wasn't buying it. "...your pants are getting wet, dear America." America's eyes widened along with France's smirk. Damn it! He hadn't had time to clean the cum from himself, and it was still dribbling! He didn't really have an explanation for that one...

England quickly hopped into his pants, ignoring the soreness jolting through his hips, and looked in the mirror. Great, it really did look like he'd just fucked someone. He rolled his eyes. France already knew anyway. He knew he did. So what difference did it make? He opened the door and walked out. France immediately zoned in on his messy hair and flushed face, and laughed. "Oh, this is one for the books! You finally did it, eh, England?" England's face reddened. "I don't know what you're talking about, France." He said. "Bastard..." he muttered under his breath.

"Oh come now, don't be bashful! I can easily tell, I mean, your hair is so messy..." "His hair is ALWAYS messy, France!" "Flushed face?" "He's been drinking!" "What about you? You have the same appearance, after all." He lightly cringed. True, his hair wasn't always very messy, and he didn't often get drunk unless it was a special occasion or he was depressed... No excuses for him. "Of course I'm just toying with you both. I can tell you've made the two backed beast because you both have love-bites. More you than England though, America... Just who DID top tonight..?" His smirk told them both that he would find out the truth either way they told him. "Turn around, England." England blinked, but did, eventually, turn. "Red marks on your back..?" Turning to America, a huge grin plastered all over his increasingly-annoying face, he wrapped his arm around the boy. "I never would've thought you'd be so submissive, my boy! Everyone back at the meeting was so sure that you were the aggressor!"

"France, damn it, keep your fat mouth to yourself and your own dick!" England snapped, turning around again. "What difference does it make to you? You're not the one I made love to." France burst out laughing. "Made love to? Oh, so now the truth really comes out! I always knew you were head over heels for the boy, England. I mean, come on already! You two couldn't get any more obvious--" "France, I swear that if you don't leave us alone, I'll go get my spellbook and cast a spell on you to make you break out in the worst case of acne and pimples you ever had!" England's hands were shaking as he glared at France, and he felt America slip his hand into his own, lacing their fingers together to try to calm him.

France cocked his head. "Your spells never work, England." He took a step back and leaned on the couch, spotting America's fingers laced with the Brit's. "Aww, holding hands, 'making love', you two are really just a cute and innocent little couple, aren't you? So was he your first, America?" "France, you need to leave." the sandy-blonde threatened. France seemed to notice the threatening tone in his voice, because he did back off just a bit. "I'm only curious. After your outburst in the meeting, all that talk about needing to love someone before having sex, I had assumed you were a virgin, since you never really gave any indication of having had feelings for anyone in the past. Was I wrong?" "No. Now get out." Damn, France really knew his stuff! It was both pissing America off, and making his respect France's observational skills.

England stepped forward, glaring straight into France's eyes. "France, if America wants you to leave, then you'd better leave, or so help me, I'll kick you out the door myself!" France took another step back, clearly both amused and slightly intimidated by the defensive positions both America and England had taken. "I can see that I'm not needed here. You two just get back to your lovemaking, and I'll see you both at the next meeting...next Tuesday."

America turned and began walking back towards the bedroom, flicking his wrist. "Oh, we will. An you can go ahead and spread the word about us, because I'm pretty sure that no one cares as much as you think they do, France. You know where the door is. Let yourself out." "Very well. But I must say America, you're a terrible host. You didn't even OFFER to let me join in!" he smirked, playfully. America turned back around. "You want to join in, France?" America trekked back over near the couch, where France was leaning, and stood over him. "Do you really want to join in?" The younger pinned France's hands to the couch, and leaned in close. "Well, just maybe we'll let you."

England didn't know what the hell America was doing at first. But as he watched the apprehension in France's eyes, he realized it. He slinked over to the couch and sat down, pulling France into his lap and America on top of him. "Yes, France...we'll have a Allied sandwich...how would you like that." Fingers tenderly caressed tousled blonde hair as England smirked down at the stunned Frenchman.

The blonde male was both turned on, and scared witless. They weren't serious. They wouldn't really let him join in...would they? Of course no-! ...was that America's tongue sliding across his ear..? Oh shit, they weren't serious, right?! France swallowed thickly, and gasped silently once he heard America's voice whisper softly into his ear. "What's the matter, France? You seemed so eager before. Could it be that we're not satisfactory for you? Perhaps we should call Canada over and make it a foursome..?" A soft moan came from the French male at thoughts of all four of them together in such positions, and he could feel himself getting hard. Not good. "England, I don't think he's enjoying himself properly. Why don't we help him?"

"Oh, of course, America, darling." England crooned into France's other ear, assaulting the lobe with his teeth. The groaning hiss that escaped France made him grin in satisfaction as he winked at America. And, true to form, he could see a bulge beginning in France's pants. Oh, the poor little son of a bitch...how England wanted to see him writhe and then suffer. His hands wandered underneath of France's coat, fondling his skin tenderly.

France sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn't let them do this! Not that he didn't want it, but if it was England and America, they had to be up to something nasty! He couldn't help himself though, and the man shivered involuntarily once England's fingers found his left nipple. The two English-speaking countries were teasing him mercilessly, and France could do nothing but squirm under the ministrations! America's tongue sliding across his neck, fingers at the hem of his pants, England tweaking his nipples, biting his ear... He shivered again, this time releasing a moan to accompany it.

"Well, America...what do you think?" England whispered, nipping at France's neck harshly, earning a squeak from the Frenchman. When both of them started to fondle France's nipples, France moaned again, arching his back into those torturous hands. "Ngh! If this is a dirty trick...hnn...you'll both be-ahh! hearing it at the meeting..." he hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head when America's fingers squeezed his clothed erection tightly.

"Oh, but France...what do you think we could do that would make this a dirty trick? Are you still not enjoying yourself? That's a shame..." He squeezed France's erection tighter still, extracting a pleasured hiss from the other male. "Maybe we're not being vulgar enough for him? How about this then..." He began to whisper in France's ear, and it was clear by the changing expression on France's face that the American's words were dirty.

Don't worry, France, darling. We'll make sure to fuck you long into the night...and the morning too. Ngh...god...for one who had just gotten laid by England, America was sure talking naughty to him! The words speared straight from his ear to his cock, making his pants tighter, and he groaned in need. "Damn it, just...just do it already!" he pleaded. England smirked. "What about now, America?"

The sandy blonde thought about this for a moment, and stood up, slipping off the belt was on his pants. "I think we should tie him up. No sense in having him try to run away..." By England's grin, America took it as a 'go ahead', and bound France's wrists with the faux-leather strap. "You do like it kinky, don't you France?" France couldn't respond. "Oh, we know you do. You're always bragging about it, after all. But I don't know, England... Do you think he's starting to get a bit too needy..?"

"He was sounding too needy five minutes ago." England responded, thoroughly enjoying the look on France's face. This was pure genius on America's part. He'd have to remember to make it up to him later, in his own way. "It's rather annoying."

Where were they going with this? "He's sounding a bit too needy for us then." That didn't sound good... "What should we do with him, England? Too needy is no fun, after all. Too easy..." Definitely not a good sign...

England smirked. "Well then, what do you propose we do with him?" America's answering smile was enough. Without another word, England slipped out from under France and grabbed his arms. America grabbed his legs. "H-hey! What are you guys--?!" France had no more said these words when he was tossed out on the front porch, the door slammed shut behind him. Inside, England doubled over, laughing.

Tears began to form in the corners of America's own eyes, and even as he heard France's frustrated and angered protests just outside the door, he couldn't stop laughing. "Damn it you bastards, that was completely cruel! Just leaving me like this is the lowest of the low!" America laughed harder. It was only a mere few seconds before it seemed that France needed to find someone to help him out of his mess, and he left, cursing under his breath. America's laughter died down somewhat, and he gave England a high five. "Haha... Oh man, I hope he doesn't come to the next meeting because, if I see his face, I'll be laughing too hard to get anything done..."

Suddenly, England thought of something and he turned to America solemnly. "What if he tries to get your little brother to do the dirty work for him?" A grin tried to make its appearance on his face, but he kept his face as straight as possible.

Shoulders shrugged. "Hey, better him than us. And just how do you think France is going to explain when he asks what happened?" He chuckled and wiped the tears from his eyes. "But in the meantime, what are we going to do now? We could watch TV... Oh! Or if you're getting hungry we could go out for a hamburger!" ...yep. He was DEFINITELY America.

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**Mmm…why is AmericaxFrancexEngland so sexy?! Threesomes are a fetish to us both, I think. XD **

**Reviews are welcome as world peace!**


	7. An Arousing Discovery

**The following that you are about to read, yes. Leto and I support the theory so hard. XD It's addictive, no?**

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England smiled, a devious expression on his face. "I was thinking more along the lines of a candlelight dinner...with music in the background...a roaring fire...and clothes strewn over the floor as I make love to you in a way you've never felt before." That was his secret romantic side coming through.

"O-oh." That was definitely not what the sandy-blonde was expecting. "That's so old-school, England! But...maybe your old-school ways could be fun to try." He smiled, taking England in his arms. Their lips met, and America watched England as they kissed, deciding not to shut his eyes this time. The other was even more wonderful up close, and even as they parted, America whispered. "We won't be eating your cooking, will we? Although...I will admit, it's not as bad as most people make it out to be."

England laughed softly. "No...we'll order out. Let's watch movie and order from one of China's villa's, okay?" He laughed again. "China's cooking is really good, I have to admit. It's not scones or crumpets, but hey, it beats the unromanticality of hamburgers!" He teased, pecking America on the nose as he pulled away.

"I like hamburgers!" America protested, puffing out his cheeks, his arms crossed. He soon cracked up, though. "We should order French!" he grinned. "French food is supposed to be romantic!" He sighed and shook his head. "He deserved it. So what movie are we watching?"

"I don't know. You pick. Since you OBVIOUSLY have better taste in ideas than I do!" England huffed, turning away from America and sticking his nose in the air. He soon felt America's arms wrap around him, and he turned, smiling down to kiss the space between America's glasses, the boy shuddering in response. "...Wha...why did you just...?"

America shifted his weight from one foot to another. "D-don't touch my glasses." It was meant to be a simple request, just like you'd ask someone to hand you something that was just a little out of your reach, but it came out as more of a demand, and it was clear that England didn't like being told what to do.

"Why not?" England asked, reaching out to push them back up on America's nose...and was shocked at the mewling whimper that his lover released. "A-America...?" He pulled his hand back, disbelief all over his face. "Wha--?"

"I-I told you not to touch them!" he reprimanded, taking a shaky step back. "They have a sort of...effect on me." His already re-flushing cheeks had twinged a nice shade of red upon his admittance. "I didn't know what to make of it at first, but I'm the only one who can touch them, it seems."

A grin stretched its way across England's face, even though he tried to will it away, and he took a step forward, following America's footsteps until they were both backed against the living room wall. "Does me...touching your glasses...sexually arouse you...America?" He breathed, reaching up and stroking the rims around the lenses, watching as his lover's face contorted into a look of blissful agony.

"Ha-! Aahhh..." America could feel his willpower dropping amazingly fast. He supposed that before, when England removed his glasses, he was already aroused, so he didn't notice a change, but now... "Eng-ngg..." ...he was definitely feeling it. Oddly enough, it only seemed to work when he was wearing his glasses. If they were siting on the table or something, anyone in the world could come along and touch them, pick them up, play with them, wear them, anything! But right now, he was more wondering why he hadn't switched to contacts when he realized what the lenses did to him. England's finger slid over the rims, and then down the shaft of the ear tabs, making America gasp. He was at a disadvantage here.

A deeper smirk replaced the amused smile on England's face. "I wonder what will happen if..." And he leaned in, gently licking the rims and a bit of the nosepiece. The reaction he got out of America was most surprising, really. America cried out, bucking up against England, a crying, moaning sound ripping itself from him into the air. "So it's true..." he whispered.

A shudder ran through America's spine, England's breathy words ghosting over the metal frames, and the boy had to inhale deeply to recover his breath at the last unexpected movement. "Of course it's true..." he breathed out. "Why would I lie...about something like that..?" He had to admit, England touching his glasses was something that felt good... But he still wished that the other male wouldn't have discovered his weakness! He was practically Play-Dough to the other male now. Putty in his hands, as it were.

"Just like Italy." England took a hold of the ear tabs, America gasping and moaning as he did, and started to rub his fingers against them sensually. The man flush against his chest began to whimper and writhe against him uncomfortably. "How is it possible...?" He asked, leaning down and kissing his former brother tenderly.

"I don't...know..." he mumbled. "And I don't like...being compared to I-! Nghaah!" Whatever America was about to say, England apparently didn't want to hear it, obvious by the way he cut the other man off with a lick to the actual glass lenses. "N-no! E-England, you'll sm-mudge them!"

"That's what they make eyeglass cleaner for." England whispered huskily, pushing America down to the floor and hovering over him, his leg between his knees. He could feel America's bulging erection again, and the knowledge that it was there turned him on. He took another seductive lick to the lenses, watching in approval as the man's eyes rolled back in his head.

America didn't know how the situation had gotten this far, but he knew how to stop it. At least...if he could have stopped it. He could easily have shaken his head, tossing the spectacles off, but his erection wouldn't have gone down just because of that... England's knee was pressed against his crotch and he was teasing his glasses... America was feeling two bouts of pleasure at once, and it was making his head spin. "You-...nhg...you're not t-tired yet..?" he managed.

England chuckled deeply. "I was...until you decided you were going to turn me on again without realizing it." He tsked at the boy. "Here I had a nice little nap planned for us, and it might just have to be put on hold while I fuck you into the next universe again. What a pity." He grinned, abandoning America's slobber-covered glasses for a moment to kiss his lips.

America decided to keep quiet about his questionings on how he could decide to do something without realizing it, as he figured that England was going to retaliate with something smart, or tease him even more. His mouth was a little occupied at the moment anyway and, soon, his tongue was as well. America's body jerked forward slightly and a cry caught in his throat once England's hand went south, squeezing lightly on his half-hard, cloth-covered cock. When the Brit's fingers started caressing him through said fabric, he couldn't suppress a moan, and of course that only made England more eager. It felt so damn good... America knew he would be sore the next day, but it was a small price at the pleasure he was feeling right now.

"America...America..." England breathed, feeling his lover becoming harder beneath his fingers. "I love you so much." He pushed his tongue back into America's mouth again, the boy's tongue meeting his. They slid down the wall and onto the floor, England once again hovering over America as they kissed.

The only answer America could manage was an aroused moan, and- Damn it, he really wished that England would get him out of those pants, they were really getting uncomfortable! One hand went up, capturing tussled blonde locks, and the other remained on the floor, gripping at the hardwood in vain. "Hu-...ry..." he barely managed to moan through the other's lips, so forcefully taking control of his own. He just knew that his lips were swollen...

England's hand went down to gently caress the bulge in America's pants again, his eyebrows rising as he felt just how tight said pants were. "Oh...I nearly forgot." he smirked, unbuttoning and unzipping the man's pants and pushing them down again. America released a relieved groan as his swollen erection was let out, one that England quickly cut off with another kiss.

_'Maybe it's a good thing that- Oh, FUCK, England, how did you get so good at hand jobs?! A good thing that Lithuania doesn't work here any more... No threat of being walked in on. Well...except for Juakim. But he's probably in his spaceship, and he never comes in here anyway...'_ America had to wonder if England was planning on giving him a hand job, blowjob, or anal to get him to come this time, but it didn't really matter. America arched into the Brit's touch, and England pulled his lips away, allowing America to let out his moan.

The mewling sound that America released when England wrapped his hand around the solid-hard cock shuddered through the Englishman, making him add his own moan. He squeezed lightly, getting yet another moan, and he grinned ferally. "Yes...that's it...moan my name, America-kun."

Stubbornness and rebellion crept its way into the American's heart, and he managed to keep himself from saying the other's name, even if he did moan out. He supposed that he was still a bit sore over being taken advantage of, and so he still hated getting direct orders from England, even if they were given in such situations as the one they were currently in. The hand around his cock teasing the sensitive skin, the lips on his neck and at his ear, whispering and kissing and biting... He wasn't sure he could let England do it to him again, so in a swift movement, he managed to get England against the wall, completely swapping their positions. He was physically stronger than England, so it wasn't that difficult, and as his teeth reached the Englishman's collarbone, the dirty-blonde hissed.

He wasn't sure what had just happened. One moment he was on top of America, and the next moment...? He found himself pinned to the wall where America had previously been pinned, America's teeth grazing his neck. He choked out a groan, clenching his hands. It was happening again. America...was rebelling! "No!" He growled, trying to pull America's hands off of him. "I won't let you--!"

America stopped. "England..?" The man seemed desperate all of a sudden. Panicky. "What..?" He backed off slightly, wondering if England was okay. He was fine before, but...well...England was funny like that.

England clenched onto America's shoulders, watching as the boy winced. "Don't..! Please...don't rebel again." His voice trailed into a whimpered whisper. He stared up at America, feeling silly for having broken the mood like that, but yet not able to stave off the feelings of despair and terror that had washed over him for the first time in over two hundred years.

"England..." America wrapped his arms around the smaller male. The look in the other's eye was a mix between pure terror and desperation, so America decided not to joke around this time. "England, I'm not rebelling." he whispered into his ear. "It's okay, I just want you to feel good too." His heart pricked at the look on England's face, and he didn't know that England was still upset over that... Angry yes, but upset like this... He had no idea. "I'm sorry..."

Arms wrapped around America's neck as England buried his face in the sweet-smelling skin of the former colony's neck. "I know...I'm sorry too. Force of habit." He grinned weakly. "I know you didn't...mean anything by it. We got carried away." He pulled back to kiss America again. "Please...continue."

"You sure?" he asked concerned. "Yeah." "Okay..." And America placed his lips back to England's. It was less lustful than before, but America wanted England to be comfortable, so he figured he'd better not rush back into it. They both were still clearly aroused, as neither one of their erections had gone down, so America figured that England really did want to keep going.

England felt his heartbeat slowing as he and America kissed, loving the simple feeling of their lips melding together. Well, as long as America's motives were as innocent as they could be, considering the circumstances, he could deal with being uke for a while. He moaned softly, licking America's lips to request their tongues.

America let his tongue slide out, wrapping itself with the one still on his lips, and they began a playful battle, first, America taking control, but soon giving it to England, who gave it back to America after a bit. He felt so light headed... It was a good feeling, but he wasn't sure how long he could last without jumping England right there. He was starting to get quite pained in his lower regions...

The bliss England felt couldn't be denied. He clung tighter to America, who pinned him harder against the wall, kissing him with full-blown passion. The sound of said kisses became wet and sloppy, echoing through the whole house. Even the grandfather clock in the corner of the room became witness to their love as England wrapped his legs around America's waist, begging for attention. His erection was becoming unbearable, but he couldn't resist one final stand for dominance as he grabbed America's glasses, sliding them sensually down his nose before pulling them off and sliding them across the hardwood floor, so they wouldn't get broken. America's growl of pleasure sent thrills down his spine straight to his dick, and he moaned as they slid to the floor again, England now in the place where America had laid minutes before.

America stared into the glazed, half-lidded eyes of the Englishman splayed before him, and he let out a possessive moan, leaning down to claim his neck as his hand went to toy with England's still clothed cock. The sounds being elicited from the other male only urged the American on and, at last, he freed England's erection from its prison, although his teasing hadn't yet stopped. He ran his fingers gently over the shaft, nibbling ticklishly on England's neck, watching the other man writhe and moan under his touch.

The man had to admit it. America was damn _good_ at this! The sensual way his fingers danced over his erection, making it stiffen even more, if that was even possible. The whispered sweet nothings in his ear as he bit, nipped, and kissed down to England's collarbone. This foreplay was nothing like what he and America had done the first time. This was completely new, and he found that he liked it just as much as when he was on top. For now, it felt good to have America pleasuring him. "Nghhh...don't tease me!" He begged, arching his back into America's touch.

America's slightly rebellious attitude crept back in, and he found himself wanting to tease even more. Could he do that? He figured it couldn't hurt. After all, the messy-haired man didn't seem to be _too_ terribly opposed to the teasing... "You don't like that, England?" he whispered, wondering if this was what France felt like all the time. "Then...what about this?" And he gently squeezed the engorged flesh of England's cock, pulling out a hiss from the lips of the other. He proceeded to slip England's pants down with his free hand, his busy hand sliding over heated flesh to find a pert nipple, rubbing his thumb around it. America decided at that point that he was glad France had told him all those things when he simply asked for diet advice. They were coming in handy...

"Nghh! Damned...tease..." England gasped, arching his back into the gentle ministrations. "I thought I told you...haaah...to stop that!" America clearly ignored his words, instead beginning to move his hand up and down the hardened shaft. England thought he was going to just die right there.

"If you didn't like it, then you wouldn't be making such nice noises." His voice was more husky than usual, and the expression England was making sent trills of excitement pulsing through his body. Every cry, every shiver, every gasp and breath sent America to heaven, and his own erection burned for attention. He was having too much fun playing with England to pay it much mind, however, and as the British man whined, a mix between curses and pleas, America leaned up, licking at the Brit's belly button.

The yelp that England released was uncharacteristic for him, but yet he couldn't help it. America was arousing him far too much, and he desperately needed to cum. "I never ngh---said that I wasn't...enjoying it." He growled, his hands clawing at America's back.

America thought that he rather liked the pain of England's fingernails on his back, and as America leaned up farther, taking the nipple he had previously been playing with in his mouth, England came with a shuddering moan in America's hand. America smirked around the pert flesh, and sat up, smiling at England's panting figure. He lifted his hand to his lips and began to sensually lick the clearish-white liquid from his fingers, never breaking eye contact with England. America seemed like a totally different person now... More mature, somehow... Sort of evil. America could tell by the expression in his eyes that England both admired, and feared it.

The pleasure that England had felt when he came only hit him tenfold when he saw the feral, lust-laced look in America's eyes. His stomach curled in anticipation, and his breath came in pants as he watched the American lick his fingers. "America-san...what...what are you going to do...?" He gasped.

"Nothing you didn't do to me before." he explained casually, getting the last of the cum from his fingers and licking his lips, still never breaking away from the emerald optics in front of him. He leaned over England again, kissing his deeply, and began to nip at his ear and neck again. "And you're about to feel good again here in a minute."

Arousal surged through the British man once again, the tightening in his stomach only getting more uncomfortable with every nip and suck the other man made. "R-R-Really? Tell me...h-how?"

"I still need to come, England." That was all the information he gave. He was unusually quiet for being _America._ He sat up again, and continued his work on the Englishman's pants, pulling them from his ankles to take them completely off. They would just be in the way for what he was going to be doing next...

That was when England really realized what was going to happen. Instantly, he recoiled at the thought of the pain that was going to ensue. He was a virgin in that way still, and he felt the need to remind America to be gentle. "You are..." He swallowed thickly, trying to calm his breathing as he watched America practically strip him before his very eyes. "You are...going to use...lubrication...right?"

That's when America stopped. Right...lubrication. "Umm...I told you before I don't have anything, England, but...I could just do the same thing you did, right..?" He wasn't sure if that would be sufficient for England. He was fine with it, but England seemed to always have more refined tastes. At least, when it didn't come to his own food. Food... Food! "Oh! England, I have some cooking oil, would that work?" Surely that would be fine, right? After all, they used cooking oil while frying french fries, and if they used it in fast food, it had to be good, right?

England resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was _so_ America! But nonetheless, it would serve its purpose. So he gave a quick nod, watching America rise to his feet and pad into the kitchen, rummaging around a bit. "Mmm-hmm...no...not that...hmmmn...aha! There it is!" He came back wearing nothing but a triumphant grin. In his hand was a bottle of cooking oil. And unbelievably, the sight of America holding their makeshift lubrication actually turned England on, and he moaned slightly.

Bottle in hand, America knelt down and was quite pleased when he brushed his hand against England's inner thigh and the man moaned, spreading his legs farther. America opened the cap on the bottle, and smirked. 'Extra virgin olive oil.' Ironic... Regardless, he poured some on his hands, and the oil warmed instantly, America already beginning to coat his cock. He moaned. He would have to remember this stuff when he was pleasuring himself... Pouring a bit more into his hands, he began to finger the area around England's entrance, thoroughly enjoying the other's pleasured hiss. Then...he poked a finger in. It wasn't far, and he was really more experimenting, but the reaction he got sent a shiver up his spine.

The burning sensation that England felt rolling down his spine was one like he'd never felt before. It was amazing, and damn it, he needed more! Using his legs as momentum, he thrust back against the mere finger, groaning in need. America looked surprised, but very pleased with himself. "Damn it! Just...more! Give me more!"

America growled deep in his throat. It felt good, England needing him like that, and the tightness of his entrance felt better than America had imagined. He slipped his finger in farther, wiggling it around experimentally before adding another, trying not to go too fast or be too rough. Although with the way England struggled and squirmed, moaning out for more...it was hard not to. Finally, a third finger was added, and America moaned as England pushed against him once more.

"Nnnnnghhh...hnnn...hah!" England cried out as America's fingers shoved deeper, brushing momentarily against his prostate. The pleasure was overwhelming, but far from undesirable. '_Whoa...America...he's amazing...and he's all mine.'_

England's reactions were driving America wild, and he finally pulled his fingers from the squirming male, leaning up to run his tongue over his left nipple. "You ready?" he breathed, kissing his lover's chest.

The Brit had only to nod before America settled between his raised legs. He reached out and grabbed both of America's hands for support as the younger country hovered over him. Their fingers laced together and England's hands were pushed above his head. He shut his eyes and waited for that wonderful moment, as well as bracing himself for the pain.

America took a deep breath. He had never actually put any of France's sex advice to practice, so he hoped he was doing this right. Although, the explanations were so detailed, he wasn't sure _anyone_ could get it wrong... He brushed the fingers of one hand against England's hair line, the other still holding his hands, and slowly pushed in, rocking himself to get in as deep as he could. He moaned. The tightness was an insane type of pleasure, and he felt that it would be one he could get used to.

When America breached him for the first time, spasms of pain wracked England's body, and he cried out, shutting his eyes tighter, wincing against it. But as America sank in with a low groan, moving back and forth gently at first, then a bit harder to drive himself all the way, pleasure blossomed inside of him. Pain was but a distant memory as England shoved back against him, gasping sharply at the sensation. They were still for a moment, both gasping and panting before America started to move without any encouragement from England, save for the loud cry he gave when America pulled out and thrust back in quickly.

A few more thrusts, and England's hands went up to grip America's upper arms, his nails scratching red trails into his flesh, the dull, burning pain only serving to arouse him more. England's expression was locked in a state of utmost ecstasy, and there were the beginnings of tears threatening to spill forth from his tightly closed optics. The image would be burned into America's memory forever, and he was certain that it would be the best memory he ever made. It wasn't the most romantic location, but they were enjoying it, and that's all that truly mattered. America was really starting to feel the ache from he himself getting fucked earlier, but the adrenaline he was running on helped him will it away, and as he thrust in again, he felt himself brush against something... It must have been a good thing, given the reaction from England. Is that what England had hit earlier that made him see white..? France said it was the prostate..? He remembered it being mentioned briefly, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing that he actually payed attention...but it sure helped him out tonight.

He was drowning. No...he was more than drowning...he was dying. That's what the insane bliss felt like. That he was dying and going to heaven. Then when America hit his prostate and his vision exploded into blooms of white light, he was sure that he was dead. But no...he was still screaming, calling America's name to the heavens to which he was going. England had never felt this way in his life, and by the queen's life, he was going to feel more of it! "America! More, damn it! Nghhh!" He yelled, digging his fingers into his blonde lover's arms as they rocked back and forth.

"I'd be able to...ngh..! Go faster if...if it weren't for you- ggh! Taking me so hard earlier!" he panted. "I'm all sore!" He forced himself in again, and again, and again, and when he felt that he was about to come, he reached down, his palm sliding across sweat-soaked flesh before wrapping around something even more slippery. Pre cum was sliding down the swollen cock in beads, and America began to palm the erection, his hand sliding over it smoothly. He slid his hand down, and fingered England's balls a bit, then slid his hand back up to tease at the tip, running his finger around the slit, only to slide his hand back down again, repeating the actions. He was completely disregarding the rhythm of his thrusts, and he felt that the eroticism of it actually added to the sensations.

It was no use. America's ministrations were driving him over the peak of insanity, and there was no turning back from here. With a harsh cry of ecstasy, England allowed the waves of pleasure to sweep him away, and he released, choking on a strangled groan as he arched his back into America's shuddering body. His fingers tightened, sure to leave bruises later, as America's mouth captured his, their tongues gyrating wildly as the younger country shuddered and groaned again. "America...please..." he pleaded breathlessly.

America couldn't speak. He was distracted by his own still-aching erection, although he could feel it swiftly coming to an end. Third thrust...fourth...fifth...and that was all it took. He shuddered, his seed ejaculating into the man beneath him, and he sat there for a moment, regaining his breath. He was amazed that his arms were still holding him up, although they were shaking like feeble trees in a gale, but he didn't want to just fall on top of England and risk hurting him. Oh, he could feel his muscles screaming at him already, but in his mind, he just laughed back. _'It was worth it, and I'm not listening to you.'_ They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, both just sitting in the comfortable silence, when America stated, in his not-very-often-used quiet voice, "I fucking love you..."

Those four words were all it took to make England laugh, moving their bodies in such a way that it made butterflies take flight in his stomach again. He reached up and pulled America down for a tender kiss, their tongues touching gently, sensually. "I fucking love you too, you silly git." He whispered as they pulled away, both smiling at each other. "And I love it when you fuck me too."

At last, he slipped out of his lover, laughing. "Yeah, we both had fun today... Well, for the most part, I guess. So whad'ya think? Bed now? Cuz I was kinda thinkin' we need showers..." He traced his fingers down England's stomach...and when he drew his finger back, cum was sticking to it. "We could just towel off, if you're too tired... I still have some of your semen in my ass though..."

"And now I have yours in mine too, you twat." England quipped, sitting up hesitantly. It hurt more than he expected. "Ugh...wow. That's really gonna hurt in the morning." He glanced at the clock. "Honestly, maybe we should shower off before going to bed. We don't want to soil the bedcovers anymore than they are." He laughed, holding out his hand so America could help him up.

Helping him up, America lifted the Brit into his arms, England suddenly getting rather flustered as the American carried him to the bathroom, laughing. "We should shower together, England!" he said with a smile. "I've always wanted to try it!" England rather embarrassedly inquired as to what kinds of things he had seen to make him want to do that, and America got the water warm, turning the knob that rerouted the water to the shower nozzle. He let England get in first, and as the two partook of casual banter mixed with some more intimate subjects, they finally got out, and dried off, both now completely clean. Still nude, neither one seeing any reason to regarb, America led England back to his bedroom. "We should sleep in here. I'll clean the guestroom sheets tomorrow."

England had only to nod before he was settled into the softness of America's bed. They pulled the covers up, and the two men snuggled closer together. England's arm was secure around America as they lay there, and he gently kissed the younger man. "I love you, America." He whispered, as both of their eyes began to droop. "Sweet dreams, my love."

America tried to breath in England's scent, but was slightly frustrated when he found that he couldn't. England had obviously taken on America's scent when they showered, and the blonde boy couldn't hide the pout on his face. Luckily, England was already dozing off, and he didn't see. They slipped into a light and peaceful slumber, and to them, it seemed as though all the world's problems were completely nonexistent.

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**Seme!America is just as hot as seme!England. XD But yay, more smut for you! You like it so far? Then review! That's what we're here for. :3**


	8. AmericaandEngland Time

**The last chapter is finally here! Read on, friends. Read on. :3**

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America groped groggily and only half-heartedly for his cellphone. He groaned, cursing the song that he had set as the ringtone: "Too Sexy". He had set that one for France, since the man thought rather highly of his looks, and he REALLY didn't want to answer it... "Mmhello?" he mumbled, barely audible, into the receiver. "Bonjour, America." He cringed. That smug tone was not what he wanted to hear in the morning...

England was roused as well by the annoying ringtone, and turned over, sleepily staring at America's scowl. "Who is it, 'Merica?" He asked, not fully awake yet. His body hurt all over, and he just didn't want to move. But then he heard France's voice over the speaker. "I wanted to tell you both of an emergency meeting. _Le plus pressant_, as it were." Oh no. England groaned under his breath and shut his eyes. That wine-bastard was never going to give up, was he?

"Is that England? Oh, he's still there? You two just made it a field day, didn't you?" America could practically hear the grin on his face... "Shut up France. Or do you want a repeat of last night? Next time, we'll tie you up and then use a cock ring, instead of tossing you out, where there's hope of relief." He chuckled. "I'll be looking forward to it. But the meeting in being held over here at my place this time. It truly is an emergency, so...hurry up." "We're not coming. Have fun without us." France wasn't giving up that easily, oh no. He had to get them there, and he would do just that.

The Briton had to stifle a laugh at America's cocky words. Oh, he'd never get the image of France, alone and quite hard on the porch, out of his head. But France just persisted. "But America, darling, it's so important! We need our hero here to discuss global warming! You're the hero, America. You have to be here!"

He...he was the hero. That's right. He couldn't leave everyone there at the meeting, so powerless... they were unable to protect themselves, of course, so America knew. He had to do it. He was in pain, yes, but...everyone was counting on him. He inhaled sharply, and without thinking it over too long... "Alright France. I'll be there. But England's not coming, there's no need for him too." England simply watched, half in amazement at America thinking so much of him where he's willing to go to the meeting alone and in pain, and half in disbelief at America having fallen for whatever France had pulled. He heard France's voice over the phone, but couldn't make out what he was saying, although he found that America's face was getting quite red. And that expression...what _was_ that? "F-fine, alright, he'll come too..." And he hung up. "The meeting starts in just enough time for us to get there." he explained, although the look on England's face said that he couldn't believe that America had dragged him into this.

"What did he say to you?!" England demanded, trying to sit up as fast as he could. But alas, he fell back onto the mattress with a sharp gasp. "Damn...damn...DAMN!" He groaned. Every muscle and bone in his body ached. It ached like shit. "Damn France and his damn meeting."

"He knows how to get revenge, that's for sure..." America simply laid there, still sleepy, and still in pain. He just wanted to stay in bed the rest of the day... "It's a good thing we got a shower last night..."

-----

They finally made it to the meeting, though it was no small feat, and as everyone turned to see them walk in...France grinned. "Well well, look who finally decided to show up! Go on guys. _Sit down._" The room filled with an uncomfortable silence as everyone caught a glimpse of the look on America and England's faces, and even Russia knew that he should keep his mouth shut for risk of getting hurt.

There he was, being humiliated in front of the whole world. England took a deep breath and held his head high, motioning with his head that America was to follow him. But as they moved to their chairs, England merely stared at it like it was his worst enemy. This was not going to be pretty. Slowly, very slowly, he sat down. Gently, softly, and so damn slow. England's cheeks burned as every country stared at them. And silently, he cursed France to the worst hell he could conjure. Maybe he'd try to get the wine bastard to sit in Busby's chair. As long as Russia didn't. He looked up at the smug man. "We're here, so get on with it!"

France knew that the battle wasn't over yet. He wasn't worried. he opened his mouth to speak, but a loud yelp brought everyone's attention over to America's seat, the boy's expression showing pain. "Oww... Damn it!" He had sat down too quickly, England knew, and he was now suffering the consequences. France grinned. "Why, America. What's the matter?" America growled, _growled_ at him! "Shut the fuck up, you wino bastard." England smirked. He was so proud of America at that moment...

"Did America and England hurt themselves?" Italy questioned, his voice breaking the awkward silence among the countries. Germany covered his face with his hands. "I'm sure it's none of our business, Italia." England nodded. "Thank you for considering that fact, Germany, because no. It's no one's business." France rolled his eyes. "_Tsk tsk._ Poor Igirisu...I see you still have America's cock up your ass after last night." That did it. England was seeing red, and if he could have leapt out of his chair and declared war on the bastard, he would have.

"Um, gee, I think like, you know, I think I totally need to...get to the bathroom guys, yeah, that's it! So...I'll, like, be gone for a few minutes, kay? Later." And there went Poland... Smart move, for the supposed most clueless of the nations... France's grin was infuriating... America's glasses were reflecting the light rather menacingly, and no one was sure whether they were supposed to stay out of it, or try to stop a possible war. "France? You're not going to enjoy messing with me."

"Oh no, it was actually pretty fun last night! Until you threw me out to fend for myself..."

America caught the very clear redness on Canada's face. Had he been there the whole time..?

"Oh, and I look forward to your promise of doing it again." Everyone's stare went to America again, and there were a few murmurings. France...he was chuckling... And his smug grin...it...it was...it was... "Bgah!" ...it was gone. And it seemed that America had taken it... His water bottle had been picked and thrown and, still completely full, it had landed right in the middle of France's face, the impact so forceful that the top popped off, drenching the Frenchman in H2O.

Everyone stared in silent shock as France stood still, staring at America with his mouth hanging wide open. And as shocked as they were, it only grew as England suddenly burst out laughing and leaned over, kissing America with vigor. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!" he said, turning a smug smirk towards France. "That'll teach you to mess with my man." You could have heard a pin drop from three miles away with the silence of the room. No one breathed. No one could. England realized what he had done and his face flared red, but he shrugged. "I know you guys all knew. Quit acting so surprised."

"Oh, so they can't sit down because they had sex, right Germany? I get it now!" Germany, face turning an instant shade of scarlet, promptly dragged Italy out of the room, the boy innocently asking what he did. No one else dared to speak. America, knowing exactly what to do for once, eased himself up from the chair and began walking out. At the door, he turned casually, England already on his heels, and very directly said: "Meeting adjourned." Once they were sure the other two nations were out of earshot, China spoke up. "What...the hell was that, aru?"

"Aniki, aniki, if I took you up the ass would it hurt like that too?"

"D-don't say things so vulgar, aru!"

**The End**

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**There you have it! The ending at last. Leto and I hope you enjoyed this wide joyride of a Hetalia fanfiction. But we enjoyed writing it, and that's all that matters. Hope to see you all again soon! One last time, please, please review for us! :3**


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